


The Adventures of Redden and Bristow

by BurningSlowly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Professor!Crowley, Professor!aziraphale, curse child timeline- sort of, semi-cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningSlowly/pseuds/BurningSlowly
Summary: When the end of the world didn't happen they were sure that their days of strange events would've stopped. Of course, that was too good to be true. But is this the work of the almighty or something else?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. An Angel and a Demon Fall Into a Portal

Crowley should’ve known that it had been far too quiet since they had successfully prevented armageddon. Heaven nor Hell had bothered them since their trials but he should've known that wouldn't last there was always something in the works. Which was why he was currently speeding through the street dodging cars and pedestrians as the tune of _Don’t Stop Me Now_ boomed from his stereo. It was a rather horrible fit for this situation; he wasn’t having a good time at all. 

With one hand on the steering wheel, he again played the message that had begun this mad dash. “Crowley there’s something... I don't... I have no idea what's going on.”

How it was possible for Aziraphale to sound terrified and curious at the same time was a wonder as well as a concern.

If he had any inkling that something would appear to cause this voicemail he would've stayed by Aziraphale’s side instead of returning to tend to the plants in his flat. Pressing harder onto the gas pedal he peeled the remaining stretch of his journey wearing his classic Bentley so that it would slide perfectly into an available parking slot before rushing into the bookshop.

“AZIRAPHALE!” he shouted causing a few customers' heads to turn in his direction. 

Aziraphale stood by the register with a plastered smile the sort he gave towards people who attempted to buy one of his precious books. When those eyes connected to his own covered eyes the smile turned natural. The rising panic inside of him eased as he looked over the place. It appeared business as usual but he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t leave a voicemail like that if it wasn't serious. Still, the lack of flames around this place had to be a good sign.

“Oh, my look at the time” Aziraphale announced. “Forgive me I’m closing.”

The doors flung open just as a gust of wind guided the customers out; a clear waste of angelic power he could have easily scared them out for Aziraphale. 

“You know, there's no need to leave messages if you want to see me,” he said with a smirk.

“That's not the case,” Aziraphale said a faint blush creeping over his cheeks. “I mean... follow me.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale up hidden stairs in the bookshop’s back room. He'd never been invited up here before. Often he wondered what the angle stashed up here. It was both exciting and disappointing to realize it was a standard set up for a flat- much smaller than his own.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said tentatively as they moved past the tiny sitting area to the door of what he assumed was the bedroom.

He smirked, enjoying the hint of embarrassment written on Aziraphale's face. His smugness vanished as the door opened and instead of a bedroom on the other side was a swirling vortex. Instinctively he shut the door as fast as possible. 

“What the hell is that?” he yelped pushing Aziraphale away from the door. 

Things like that couldn't be good.

“So you don't know what it is either?” Aziraphale sounded disappointed.

“No” He admitted. “How-”

“I have no idea.” Aziraphale wrung his hands. “It just appeared.”

Appeared, now Crowley knew for a fact that this was not good. Vortexes of doom don’t just appear to send you on vacation.

“I need a drink,” he said leading Aziraphale away. As far as he was concerned the further away from that door the better. “You haven't done anything to it have you?” he asked, pulling the cork from a fresh bottle of wine. 

“No, I didn't want to attempt anything without you.”

The admission made his hand falter for a second as he poured their drinks. 

“Right,” he said, handing the glass before promptly taking the love seat beside Aziraphale.

“Do you think it's a portal to hell?”

“Nah.” He downed his glass in one go. “Aside from head office, there shouldn't be anything close to a portal to hell.”

“Shouldn't?” 

“Sometimes demons think it's funny leaving a tiny spot open randomly placed you know so the unexpected buggers fall in and freak out.” He tried not to smile or risk letting Aziraphale know that he was that demon. “They’re returned right after a minute of course- living beings can’t go to heaven or hell.”

Aziraphale shivered. Even a minute in hell seems cruel. “So what could it be then?”

“Would it be too much to ask if this was heaven's doing?” Crowley asked. 

Heaven wasn’t always so beneath getting their hands dirty- they knew that from first-hand experience but...

“No, I don't think Gabriel would advise such actions. He's still miffed about... well everything but not enough to do this.”

Gabriel and the others had been quite spooked about the hellfire test- according to Crowley anyway. Truthfully he didn’t want to think the archangels were cruel enough to send some dangerous thing to his home. Despite all he wanted to retain belief -only slightly questioned- that angles were carrying out HER ineffable plans. That they were somehow in the right when they did...unsavory things.

“A test” Crowley suddenly proclaimed jumping to his ever so slightly unstable feet. Without a doubt he'd already drunk the whole bottle.

“Test?” 

“We must test it out.” Crowley took the bottle with him towards his bedroom. 

“Now dear is this-” 

Crowley opened the door and tossed the bottle with all his strength through the portal. Then nothing, no loud bang or crashing glass. 

“Crowley?”

“Give it some time.”

After a minute Crowley chucked a coin for his pocket. Again nothing. The portal didn't even flinch. 

“Hmmm..”

He held the edge of Crowley's shirt as he moved forward touching only the tip of his finger against the portal.

“This isn’t of hell,” Crowley said far more sober than he'd care to be. It didn't hold the smell or feel of sulfur and suffering that came with hell's influence. And it clearly lacked the angelic signature. This was unknown, something closer to what Antethama was like but stronger.

“Witchcraft.” 

“What?” Aziraphale moved closer, hand still tightly grasped on his shirt. “That's not possible no witch is strong enough these days. Anathema wouldn't.” 

“Not her, someone else I just don't,”

Placing a hand against the portal's edge he felt it start to suck him in. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shrieked as his hand disappeared into the void. Pulling and pushing they tried to fight the tug but it was far too strong. In one moment they were about to retrieve his hand then the next they toppled over into the void. The feeling was odd much like the way he traveled through wires. As soon as he got accustomed to the twisting in his stomach he found grass beneath his feet.

Aziraphale kept his eyes close up until the moment he landed on something or someone. 

“Oh, my dear Crowley” he exclaimed, hurrying off the body below him only to realize that it wasn't Crowley at all but a complete stranger dawned in voluptuous robes.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, rising from the grass a little away. “Who’s that?”

“I don't know” he blanched at the unconscious man. Looking around he saw a beautiful castle. “Clearly we are not in SoHo anymore,” Crowley said, reclaiming the coins that he'd tossed into the portal. Stretching he rotated his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” 

“Readying for a flight can't be that far off.” 

“What about him?” Aziraphale pointed to the man. “We can't leave him.”

Crowley looked over the rounded balding man in robes. His nose twitched. “He’s a witch.” 

Aziraphale looked to the man curiously. “You sure?”

“I can smell it can't you?”

“Well... we don't know if he's bad. Not all witches are bad, Anathema.”

“Yes, I know. But he smells different, not bad just... I don't like it much. Nor this place” Crowley looked to the castle. 

“Nonsense we must help.” 

“Angel,” he clamped up the second Aziraphale started pouting. If he had to name one of his weaknesses it would be that pouting face. “Fine.”

Helping scoop up the man they carried him towards the castle.

Aziraphale couldn't understand Crowley's hesitation. There was a great sense of love for this place. He could even hear the laughter of children running down the halls who too wore robes blanked with hints of colors around their collars. 

“A school” Crowley hissed. “Never much liked schools.”

Aziraphale laughed.

“Slughorn!” a strict looking woman said moving towards them. Her eyes drifted from the unconscious man to them. “Undignified” she muttered, brandishing a stick with intricate designs and aiming it at the man. “Aguamenti” Water spouted from the stick into the man's face instantly waking the man.

“Should've done that” Crowley muttered. 

“M-Minerva?” the man stuttered bewildered.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The man looked to them with questionable eyes.

“Found him passed out probably hitting the bottle hard,” Crowley suggested.

“I well...”

Minerva’s frown deepened. “Go to your office, I'll speak with you momentarily.”

The man nodded before waddling away. 

“You two” she pointed at them “come with me.”

Crowley detested following this woman. It reminded him far too much of the scoldings he'd received in heaven for even alluding to questioning things. Questions led to his fall. 

Shoving his hands into his pocket he didn't dare show his curiosity the way Aziraphale did as she spoke to a gargoyle that led to stairs. Not even coming across moving portraits did he change his unamused face.

Sitting at a large desk was a man with a long white beard dressed in purple robes. “Minerva,” he asked, adjusting his half-moon glasses. 

“These two found professor Slughorn unconscious on the lawn.” 

“I'll be sure the matter will be solved. Thank you, Minerva.”

With a nod, the woman left. 

This place felt off. Everything from the humans to the castle itself.

“What brings you to Hogwarts?”

Crowley refused to look to Aziraphale; they needed more answers before they offered any of their own. Hogwarts, even the name of this place was odd. 

“Do forgive me, tea?”

“That would be lovely” Aziraphale smiled.

“Have a seat.”

Warily he watched as a tea set and biscuits floated over to them. Aziraphale seemed impressed but even the most mundane of magic tricks excited the angle. His amusement would’ve been fine if it weren't for the fact that this wasn't a parlor trick done with wires or optical illusions.

The thinnest smile from the old man sent his arms over to snatched Aziraphale's tea. 

“What have you put in this?” he demanded.

Despite the fact that there were only a handful of things that could dis-corporate them he rather not have Aziraphale run the risk.

“Nothing to be so concerned about just something to calm the nerves.”

“We don’t require calming,” he said, not too gently placing the cup on the man's desk. “Don't,” he whispered to Aziraphale. 

Knowing the angel was bound to apologize for his actions. They couldn't trust anyone or anything yet. 

“That is abundantly clear,'' the man said his eyes twinkling suspiciously. “Perhaps something else besides tea?”

“We’ll just leave,” Aziraphale suggested, rising from his chair. 

“I’m afraid not” the old man branded a stick like the woman had. Waving it around caused Aziraphale to return to his chair. 

“Why you-” Furiously he found that he couldn't move his feet. 

He'd never encountered humans with this ability. It felt like there were binds over his legs. Growling he fought against the invisible chains.

“Old fool,” he said his voice deepening with a growl as he regained movement. 

In the moment it took to grab the old man's robes and pull him over the desk the stick caught his glasses sending them to the ground. Fear shone in the old man's eyes as he glared at him without any covering. 

“Don't you dare do shit like that again,'' he warned letting the image of his elliptical pupils burn into the man’s memory. “Now free him!” He ordered tossing the man back against his chair. 

Shakily the man waved his stick.

Aziraphale hesitantly moved his fingers then quickly pulled Crowley away from the desk. 

The old man looked thoroughly distressed as Crowley continued to glare at him. 

“So sorry” he said. 

“W-what are you?” the elderly man asked in a shaky voice.

“A demon obviously” Crowley flipped the man off before recovering his now cracked sunglasses. 

“A demon?”

It seemed that not even humans that possessed magic could come to terms with the idea of a demon staring them down. 

“You're not hurt are you?” he asked both wanting to help the man and run away. Confrontation was never his strongest suit. He’d never seen Crowley so angry before.

The man seemed to regain his senses enough to straighten out his grayed beard. “I am uninjured.”

“You must be more careful” he scolded Crowley. 

“He first tried to poison us then held us against our will for fuck sake.” 

“It's still not right.”

“Gentlemen, why are demons in my school?”

Az frowned; he couldn't help it. “I am not a demon,” he said in his ‘holier than thou voice’ or so that's what Crowley called it. He took pride in not falling despite his less than perfect record on Earth. 

He looked towards Crowley who was still inspecting his fallen sunglasses. 

“Then what are you?” the headmaster asked. 

“An angel of course”

“An angel and a demon?'' the man laughed.

Feeling as though the man didn't fully believe him he unfurled his pure white wings.

“Magnificent” the man marveled before Aziraphale tucked them back away. “This is-”

“Yeah yeah,” Crowley said, fixing his glasses with a snap of his fingers. “How did you come to harness magic? A deal with Satan? It will not end well I'll tell you that.”

“What? No nothing of the sort. All who attend Hogwarts have been born with magic.”

Born with it? That seemed so unlikely. Humans weren't supposed to be gifted with such abilities unless specifically chosen. Of course, there were some like Anathema or Madame Tracy that had minor abilities, but to be able to spew water with an incantation or bind them was a whole other level. And if this was a school filled with individuals that could do such things then...

“I’m sorry to say I didn't think that demons and angels truly existed.” The headmaster stroke his beard. “I suppose if unicorns and phoenix exist you two should as well though there had been no sightings of your kind.” 

“Clearly this one is off his rocker." Crowley gestured. "Unicorns were wiped out in the flood ages ago poor bastards.”

This man couldn’t be completely mad. “Mr..”

“Dumbledore is fine.”

“Dumbledore, we had no intention of coming to Hogwarts. We sort of just fell through a portal.” 

“Portal? Typically our magic doesn't do portals. Apparate, portkey, hardy portal.”

“Perhaps it'll be best that we go home.” 

“Yes of course”

“Angle,” Crowley said, a bit worried, snatching a newspaper from a small table. 

The paper in his hand had a moving image and was named Daily Prophet, but what was most curious was the date Oct. 2019.

“It seems that we haven't just gone from one place to another but have gone further in time” Crowley grumbled, pushing his hair back. 

“Surely you can fix this,” he said to Crowley. “You stopped time once and...”

“It's not so simple.”Crowley messed his hair before smoothing it out again. “You have magic,” Crowley said to Dumbledore. “Mind giving us a lift to our own time?”

“I could look into the matter.”

“That will be great,'' he said quickly before Crowley did something that would send the old man to the hospital. 

“In the meantime, you may stay at Hogwarts. It's protected against muggles- nonmagic folk so you won't have to worry” the old man tapped his half-moon glasses.

Crowley's lips curled. He’d been on Earth for centuries and hadn't been bothered by others taking in his looks. 

“Won’t it be odd for us to remain here?” Aziraphale asked.

Dumbledore rubbed his beard; he supposed it was an attempt to look dignified. Sorry to say he wasn't impressed in the slightest. There was something about this man that he didn't like, not evil per say, just not as good as one who smiles often should be. 

“I suppose you two could become part of our staff.”

He grimaced. “We've had our fill of working for someone else,'' he said, tempted to remove his glasses again.

“Professors possibly.”

“You would allow us to teach?" Aziraphale asked too enthusiastically for his liking. "I must iterate that we are not witches like you.”

“Males are called wizards.”

“Regardless,” Aziraphale said glancing over the old man’s correction. “It would give us the opportunity to learn about this world.”

“Why would we? I thought you'd be itching to get back to your books” he asked.

“You can't say you aren't tempted to explore” Aziraphale countered.

“Aziraphale-”

“I'll look the other way when you cause a little trouble” Aziraphale whispered.

That was a big deal. Aziraphale didn't give him the green light often. “Fine” he huffed.

“Excellent!" the old man clapped his hands together.

“You seem far too accepting of us” Crowley hissed.

It felt as though any second they’d be tossed into a cage and made to dance like trained animals. If that happened this old man was going to regret it.

“Is it not better to make allies than enemies?”

He lowered his glasses.

“I...I assume you will keep him in order?” the old coot asked Aziraphale.

Aziraphale nodded.

“Keep him in order” Crowley mocked when they were left alone in what the old man called the defense against the dark arts classroom. 

“Be nice Crowley.” 

“Demons don't do nice,” he said irritably flicking one of the many shrunken heads on display. Really the whole decor looked something out of hell’s imagination: skulls, animal remains, portraits of torture. It was hardly an environment for teaching.

“We are strangers and he's letting us remain here until we can come up with a way to return home,” Aziraphale said nervously staring at the dragon's skeleton hovering on the ceiling without the use of wires. 

“I don't trust him.” 

“You don't trust many my dear.” Aziraphale inspected the teacher's desk at the front of the class.

“Good lot trusting did for me.”

“If you have any ideas of getting back home I'm all ears.”

He didn't have any ideas if it was a simple of miracling things with a snap he would’ve. He missed London and his Bentley which was definitely going to get impounded by the time they got back and he wanted to return to Aziraphale's bookshop. 

“Oh good, they have books in this dimension” Aziraphale smiled already thumbing through something called _Hogwarts: a History_.

Feeling antsy he took to the randomly placed stairs tucked in the back of the classroom. The door opened to reveal an office covered with more horrific looking artifacts. It was hardly a wonder that this position was open. Before Aziraphale saw the more nightmare inducing items he made them disappear. Continuing his tour he found another door to the side. It seemed to be impossible considering the size constraints until he remembered they were in a place of magic. Real magic, not a few idiots standing around with cards up their sleeves. The additional room had a small living room complete with a fireplace and a bedroom attached.

“Crowley I,” Aziraphale stopped to take in the space. He smiled in the way that said ‘ well isn't this just cozy’.

He refused to be fooled. Who knew how deceptive the magic in this place made things. Until he poked and prodded the dam thing he wasn't going to even trust the inviting mattress. “What is it, Angel?”

“Well, this book is just full of useful tidbits.”

“Anything about getting us out of here?”

“Well no, but it explains the history of the castle. You see in,”

“A summary if you please Angel.” 

Any other time he would allow Aziraphale to recite his findings nearly word for word but not today. All of this dimensional stuff was already giving him a headache. He really wanted to lie down for a nap.

“Well, this is a magical school. In this dimension wizards and witches arrive at eleven years old and are placed into houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor.”

He could tell that Aziraphale wanted to fully run down each house’s history but moved along. 

“There are several topics of study including potions, defense, and astronomy.”

Crowley knew he mentioned that last one on purpose. He wondered if the constellations he'd help create would still exist in this dimension.

“What of heaven and hell?” he asked.

“Did Not come up” Aziraphale thumbed his fingers on the book's spine. 

Gently he took the book from Aziraphale's hands.

“We’ll be home soon.”

It was half a lie although he wanted nothing more for it to be the truth. There was just no way for him to know when they would return.

“Perhaps coming here is part of the Almighty’s plan.”

He doubted it but that wasn't new he always had questions about HER tactics in everything. 

“Maybe there's something we are meant to do.”

They'd already stopped Armageddon back home; what possibly could they be needed for in this dimension?

***

The old coot paraded through the office door a few minutes after they had begun to grow semi-comfortable with it. Crowley had the distinct impression he did this a lot not just with them.

“I wanted to personally invite you to the Great Hall for dinner. As new professors, you'll be sitting at the high table along with your co-workers. I've come up with a perfectly crafted story for the both of you.” The old man waved his lipstick producing scrolls of parchment. 

Behind his glasses, he glared at the finely scripted writing that only came from writing with ink and a quill. It reminded him too much of Shakespeare. _“Hamlet was not worth the miracle,”_ he thought semi bitterly. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled at his own parchment. 

“If you stick to those there will be no issue. One more thing if I may demon.”

“The name’s Crowley,'' he sneered. Calling him demon like it was some stupid pet name made him sick. He had a name like any other person and as much he didn't like the old coot using it he preferred it over demon.

“Oh, Crow-ley.” 

Even the sound of his name on the man's tongue sounded wrong.

“Would you mind removing your glasses?” 

Gladly he did just so he could show his frustration more clearly and relish in the not so hidden startle when he peered straight into those twinkling eyes.

“You see,” the old coot said looking towards Aziraphale.

He hated that he looked at Aziraphale as if he were his owner. An angel and his demon pet traversing the dimensions. 

“Wizards don't have physical distinctions from other humans so... it would be in their best interest to get that straightened out sort of speak.”

He huffed looking at his glasses. “Aren't these good enough?” He knew very well that humans didn't like his strange serpentine eyes. Truthfully he didn't care so much for them either- a physical reminder of his fall from heaven. He always supposed it could've been worse being strapped with horns and a spiked tail like the ones he'd seen a few times on cartoon demons back home. Now those would have been more of a nuisance to cover up.

“You see sunglasses too aren't a common sight here.”

Crowley stared at the half-moon glasses resting on his nose. 

“You have magic but don't fix eyesight. Have glasses but not sunglasses is that what you're saying? Your dimension is strange.”

“Perhaps so but it is where you're staying.”

What little patience he had was running dangerously thin. 

“What are you asking to do?'' Aziraphale jumped in using his polite voice.

“A spell called a glamour. It'll hide his natural eyes color and shape to appear more...”

“Normal.” He gripped his glasses a little rougher than he should. “Fine.”

He didn't want to prolong the inevitable any more than necessary. Besides he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t get to dinner until they dealt with this. He just hoped that they didn't eat anything strange in this dimension. It was never a good idea to mess with his angel's food. 

“It'll take only a moment.”

A large stick hovered between his eyes. 

“You better know what you're doing” he muttered.

So help him if he got jabbed in the face there would be hell to pay. By the end of the spell casting which really was a few words a couple of flicks of the stick, it felt like the world's most uncomfortable contacts had settled into his eyes. Several times he blinked before whatever the old man did settle. The way Aziraphale avoided looking at him worried him but Aziraphale spoke before he could ask just what he looked like now. 

“Should we change our outfits as well?”

Aziraphale eyed up the purpled robes with stars. He could feel his skin crawl at the thought of something like that being placed on him.

“I think that would be suitable.” 

That was all it took for Aziraphale to miracle himself cream color robes that all too much looked like the one's angels used to be mandated to wear in heaven. That was before humans created better clothes. Aziraphale seemed to realize this too, quickly changing it into a milk chocolate brown and now all Crowley could think if that too existed in this dimension.

“Crowley?”

He disliked the way there was so much anticipation in his voice and the expectancy in the old coot’s eyes. They wanted him to wear robes but he refused to change so much of himself so quickly against his will.

“I'll stick to what I have on,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

“Very well.” 

He felt a sense of pride over not bending to the man’s will more than necessary.

 _“The Great Hall lived up to its name,”_ he thought as he followed them to the high table looking out a sea of children spread among four elongated tables.

“Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor” Aziraphale helpfully pointed to each table. The old coot gave Aziraphale an impressed look as if cracking open a book was all that impressive. Personally, he had not fully read a book in a long time. There was hardly a reason to even crack open a book when Aziraphale would recap whatever he was currently reading when they met up. 

The room was buzzing with excited chatter he could barely focus as his ears caught bits and pieces of many different conversations all exceedingly boring. The one quiet spot was the head table whose members unanimously decided to gawk at them.

“Headmaster” the woman they met before tried to spoke only for the man to raise a hand. Walking up to the golden podium he addressed the room bringing the abundance of noise to slight murmurs.

“I'm proud to announce we have two new Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.” 

The hesitant clapping was just as bad as the pointed glances from the old coot to them. Worst still was the way Aziraphale didn't look at him.

He couldn't recall a time that Aziraphale intentionally looked anywhere aside from him. 

With a clap of his hands, the old coot summoned copious amounts of food. The arrangement looked inviting even to him. He knew he wouldn't be able to tear Aziraphale away from diving into the buttered rolls and plump turkey.

With Aziraphale so clearly gone, Crowley couldn't help pick up on the blatant curious stares sent their way. For one thing the older woman named Minerva wasn't as accepting of two strangers popping up than the old fool was, which meant she had more brains.

He looked to the sea of kids. One of them had to be the reason they were portal-ed away from their dimension. Kids tended to be the vessels of great horrors or at least most of the time they were the easiest to possess. If there were some evil he should be able to smell it out but all he could smell was the overwhelming scent from all the food and not one kid had a flashing sign hanging over them that read _here I am_. That would be way too convenient. Nothing ever turned out so easy.

“Crowley” Aziraphale whispered pulling his attention away. “You shouldn't stare so much.”

“It wouldn't be a problem if I still had my sunglasses” he hissed loud enough for the old coot to hear. He was about to complain about how much longer dinner was going to take when he felt eyes on him that weren't Aziraphale or anyone else from the head table. Scanning the crowd he couldn't find the culprit.

Before he knew it he heard the scrape of chairs pushing back as the members of the head table stood.

“I suppose we follow them,” Aziraphale said.

Although he didn't want to leave he followed the group. 

“This wasn't spoken about the last time” he heard Minerva chastised as they walked into the staff room. 

“It wasn't a thought before today,” the old coot said in a way that was supposed to sound reassuring but Minerva didn't look as though she was buying his nonsense.

“We do have a need for a defense professor,'' Slughorn offered only to receive a scathing look from Minerva. 

He smirked at the way she silenced him without a word. 

“We meant no trouble coming here,” Aziraphale said. 

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, another reason for missing sunglasses. 

“You said nothing when we first met about your position.”

“We had met under strange circumstances” he jumped in not waiting to have Aziraphale chewed out for trying to stick to the old coot's script.

“That is true” her eyes sharpened once more towards Slughorn the poor bastard.

“But two defense teachers?” Minerva scrutinized once more.

“We are a bit of a packaged deal” Aziraphale smiled. 

He wanted to bottle up that statement so he could replay it whenever he wanted. In their own dimension, it was always skirting around saying the plain fact that they were a team, their own side, refusing to be in heaven and hell’s badminton game. Fitted together like a mismatched set. 

“You should inform the rest of your staff before making announcements!” she turned her head back to the old coot.

“Forgive me, Minerva.”

She turned her attention back to Aziraphale. “Mr,”

“Redden. Arlo Redden” Aziraphale said it wouldn't be a surprise that he had all the ‘facts of this made-up person memorized. 

“I’ve been on expeditions with my partner learning about the developing nature of magic from across the globe.”

That response seemed to appease not only Minerva but the old coot.

“You must have many adventures,'' Slughorn added. “What say that was your name ol’ boy?”

Crowley thought to the name on the parchment had been handed. “Weldon Bristow” he couldn’t help make a face the name sounded so wrong in his mouth. _“If I were to change his name again it wouldn't be Weldon Bristow.”_ he thought. “Most people call me Crowley.”

“Interesting nickname.” 

“A few other introductions should be in place I think.” the old man said. “Our matron madam Pomfrey...”

He couldn't care one way or another what any of these people did or who they were. He wanted to figure out how to get back home and drive at ridiculous speeds in the Bentley.

In the time it took to think back on every student he saw tonight the meaningless introduction and tight chatter ended and they were free to return to their rooms.

“You seem distracted my dear,” Aziraphale said as they climbed the stairs.

Hogwarts seemed to house millions of stairs for no particular reason aside from mimicking M.C. Escher’s painting “Relativity”. 

“There are many things on my mind _Arlo Redden_ ” he teased, stepping onto the landing before the stairs decided to turn the other way. “Hogwarts could've been better off with escalators.”

“They are a charming feature.” 

“Charming isn't the word I'd use” he muttered peering at the far drop if a student did not make it in time.

“There are safety features built-in,” Aziraphale said. “It was all in the book I was reading.”

He turned to face Aziraphale, once again his eyes avoided his face.

“You should have retained your name,” Aziraphale said turning his head away.

“Bristow? It sounds like a broom.”

“Or an adventurer.”

“The adventures of Arlo Redden and Weldon Bristow,” he said sarcastically.

“We need to play by their rules Crowley” Aziraphale was making a face he didn't even need to see him to know.

Rules were a tricky thing between them. 

Rules said that they shouldn't be as close as they were. One immortal being couldn't run into another over 6000years and not grow close but it had always been against the rules, all their shared meals, all their walks in parks, or talking. Fraternizing with the enemy is what Aziraphale called it once.

“You know what I mean,” Aziraphale quickly added. 

Taking Aziraphale's hand he sighed.

“Yes, I understand. Different places and all that.”

Aziraphale nodded.


	2. A Tart Should Be Shared

Getting used to waking up in this new environment was harder than Crowley expected when he laid his head down the night before. The irritation of his eyes from yesterday was thankfully gone. Beyond the door separating the bedroom could hear Aziraphale talking to someone. It didn't take a genius to guess who. It would've been safer to remain hidden away from the old coot, but he couldn’t let Aziraphael deal with the man alone for much longer.

Fixing his clothes and his bed head he moved into the attached living room.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

“Sleep well?” The way the old coot spoke bothered him so much. There wasn’t care in the question. This man probably would’ve preferred if he were plagued with nightmares, joke was on him nightmares didn’t bother him anymore.

“Fine,” he said only because Aziraphale is finally looking at him again.

“I apologize for my appearance again.” 

_“Then you should leave,”_ he thought, moving to act as a buffer between the two. 

“You see glamours don't last overnight and there are a few things I wish to discuss.”

Of course, the old coot would wave his bloody stick making the uncomfortable sensation return all before he could say another word. And once again he was blinking his surroundings into focus.

The old coot smiled “Have a seat, Mr. Bristow.”

Literally biting his tongue he took a spot next to Aziraphale who scooted a little too far for his liking.

“I have a few friends looking into the portal you came from. In the meantime, I do expect you to take this position seriously.” His eyes steadied on him. “Demons are capable of taking things seriously, correct?”

Remaining seated was nothing short of a miracle. This man was lucky that he didn’t bite his head off. He _did_ take his stopping armageddon duty seriously- was it his fault there were a few hiccups probably to a point but at the end of the day, the world hadn't gone in a pile of goo.

“He is a hard worker.”

He didn’t know if Aziraphale’s words were helpful or not by the way the old coot launched into discussion.

“As an angel and demon you are able to use magic but I don't believe yours operates completely as ours.”

“I was reading up on this last night!” Aziraphale motioned to his book. 

Ever the studious, Aziraphale had the living area filled with books already. 

“Where did you get all that?”

“They have house-elves, lovely little creatures you can ask them for a few things,” Aziraphale said quickly before turning his attention back to the old man. “I've given much thought to explain our unique magic.”

Crowley tuned them out, talk of nonverbal magic did not interest him in the slightest. He wanted to get out and find why they were here. He wanted to race in his car far away from this conversation, from this confusing place, from this old coot, and from the hurt that came from Aziraphale ignoring his existence.

“You seem to be settling in well,” the old man said to Aziraphale before rising from his seat. “I'll see you at the next meal. Do contact me at any time.”

Then in a frightful burst of green flames the old coot disappeared into their fireplace.

“What the hell!” 

Jumping from the love seat he sprinted to the fireplace. Sticking his hand just a hair above the flames was enough to ensure they were real.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, pulling to inspect his hand as if something so minor could hurt then again who was to say what could hurt them in this dimension. Maybe it was someone's plan to let them get dis-corporated in this dimension then what? He didn't want to think that thought all the way through.

“Angel.”

“It’s magic transport” Aziraphale explained letting go of his hand. “They call it a floo network. You pinch floo powder, get in and say where you want to go.”

“So if I said home?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Apparently it's only tied to certain locations and can be dangerous if done incorrectly... I think we should stick to walking.”

“All those stairs angel” he groaned. 

“Oh I don’t think they'll be a problem,” Aziraphale said, pulling him by the arm. 

He could kiss Aziraphale for miracling the stairs to run as the world's fastest escalator. If it weren’t for the group of students in yellow pipped robes ahead of them he might’ve kissed him. Again during the meal, he observed the noticeably less of students. 

“A bit late this morning,'' Slughorn said, deciding to sit beside him despite the other available chairs. “Don't make it a habit,'' Slughorn said, tearing through his bangers and mash. “You ought to eat, the first day is already the hardest without a good meal in your stomach.”

By the time he was going to voice that he didn't need the man's advice Slughorn’s plate was cleaned and the remains of the feast vanished just as it had the night before.

“If you have any questions feel free to stop by the dungeons.”

 _“Dungeons?”_ he thought about the ones in hell that looked much like abandoned meat lockers combined with solitary confinement. To be tossed there was a punishment to be ripped to shreds by hell hounds until released. 

“You'll find me in the potion’s class or Slytherin chambers down there just say felix felicis” With a smile, the man waddled off.

When he turned to face Aziraphale he too had a smile on his face. “What?”

“You're already making friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

Shaking his head Aziraphale stood up. 

“Shall we get to class?”

Crowley guessed that Aziraphale had gotten the whole rundown on their class during the moments he’d mentally checked out of the conversation last night. Or maybe he'd come up with today's lesson plans in the time he slept. It wouldn’t be the first time Aziraphale had obsessed over something; like how the best crepes came from France. Or that he had to double-check historical accuracies in certain books that he read. Truthfully he loved how hyper-focused Aziraphale could be on little things that wasn't the whole heaven vs hell fiasco they'd been in for much too long. Like right now he enjoyed watching Aziraphale pacing back forth in the current empty classroom rehearsing what he would say and triple checking with the book in his hand as if to confirm with the script in his head.

“Alright, I think I’m ready.” Aziraphale turned towards him, his eyes still not connecting to his own.

Nerves had to be the reason Aziraphale was avoiding looking at him. It just had to be. New place, new job- even if it was temporary. Change was hard; he just wished that being glanced over didn’t come with it.

“You’ll do wonderful angel” he pushed away from the desk he’d been leaning on. “I'll be here to help in any way” he said momentarily caressing those tight fingers. 

“Thank you” Aziraphale smiled as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s hands. “C-could you let the students in?” 

“Sure.”

Knowing how little he knew of the operation of magic in this world he manually opened the door. Nearly immediately a boy with brown tossed hair fell into him. 

“You should not lean on doors,” he said over the snickering of the other students. 

“Yes,” the young boy blushed. 

The boy didn't look all that much older than Adam had. It almost felt wrong letting him or his classmates into this worrying decorated class but he stood back and let them in. Was it even his place to stop them from summoning lesser demons in class? In fact, he was curious about what they would do. After all, a whole castle filled with magical children guaranteed to be filled with some mischief or another.

“Good morning everyone” Aziraphale greeted when the students settled in their desks.

Aziraphale’s bright personality clashed with these surroundings some students thought so as well from the whispers he picked up on.

“I’m professor Redden” 

He adored the bright tone of Aziraphale’s voice as he called himself a professor.

“And this is professor Bristow.” 

Lazily he held up his hand. 

“We’ll start by opening our books to page...”

Crowley prowled the room as Aziraphale went on his flawless lesson. The few whispers that reached his ears were harmless but he could feel eyes on him again. It didn't matter what side of the room he was on someone was watching him. He was able to narrow it down to someone among the Slytherin side before the bell rang.

“Oh,” Aziraphale looked up from his book.

Crowley knew he hadn't made it through his entire speech. 

“Well continue next time.”

Whoever was watching him all class was not stupid enough to do so as the students backed up and moved out.

“Perhaps I should shorten the section on classification of spells” Aziraphale mused as he skimmed the book. 

“I think that would be for the best,'' he said rubbing his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Irritating.” This glamour thing didn't sit well with him at all. 

“Bare with it until tonight.”

He didn't think he would be able to but for Aziraphale, he’d try.

Aziraphale checked on Crowley every now and then throughout their classes of the day. He’d put himself in the far corner next to that dreaded painting of someone being bound. A few times he caught Crowley rubbing his eyes so hard that even from across the room he could see the redness of his skin. This couldn’t continue. It hurt to see Crowley even in the slightest amount of pain.

“Should I get Dumbledore?” he asked once the classroom was empty for the day.

“No, I can handle it” Crowley blinked away the stinging tears.

“Come” He whispered, leading him up the stairs to the living area and onto the loveseat. “Lay back” he instructed, guiding Crowley to rest his head onto his lap. “Close your eyes.”

The rough irritated look of Crowley’s face worried him so much. He knew that Crowley wouldn’t outright tell him that this glamour thing was horrible. After all, he’d been the one to convince Crowley to take it on. This was all his fault.

Aziraphale fingers smoothed through his hair, each feather-light touch distracting him from the pain.

“I'm sorry you have to endure this,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“It's nothing.” He didn't need to see to know Aziraphale was pouting at him. “Don’t look at me like that angel,'' he laughed. 

“How do you know what face I'm making?”

 _“Yup he’s definitely pouting.”_ Blindly raising his hand he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek. “I know you too well. I’m fine.”

“You can't open your eyes right now can you?” 

“Of course I can. It's a matter of want.” He lowered his hand as Aziraphale carefully traced his brows.

“We could ask Dumbledore.-”

“I don't trust him,” he said, a little weak due to the throbbing in his eyes. 

“I'm not sure what to think of him as well,” Aziraphale admitted, his hands continuing their soothing touch over his eyelids.

“You seemed so enthralled with him earlier” he teased.

“His magic is hurting you.” 

Those words drenched in guilt stilled his heart.

“I’m-” 

“Don't apologize,” he said firmly.

It wasn't Aziraphale’s fault. If this is what he had to do then that was that.

“I'm going to say something awful,” Aziraphale said. “I've been avoiding looking at your face.” 

“I've noticed” he chuckled. 

“You have?” 

“Were you trying to keep it a secret?'' he smirked. 

Well, he knew what face Aziraphale was making now, the one with a slightly embarrassed tint of his cheeks and furrowed brow.

“Angels are not supposed to be deceptive.”

He chuckled. “I don't think that's the reason you're rubbish at it.”

For a moment Aziraphale was quiet. He wondered if he was calculating all the times they'd deceived heaven and hell of their status of a wily demon and a clever angel.

“I didn't want to sound rude but your new eyes frighten me.” 

He laughed enough to feel a little jump from Aziraphale.

“How is that possible?” 

He'd looked at himself in the mirror earlier. His false eyes were a dark brown normal as any other human. His typical serpentine eyes were more frightening of the two.

Aziraphale felt so guilty for putting Crowley through so much since coming here. Changing something as simple as the way his eyes looked... How could he have asked for that? How could he have given little thought to how such a change would make them both feel? Having those false brown eyes look at him...

“I've always known you with your eyes.” He let his fingers trace Crowley’s brows then down the bridge of his nose. “I know it's silly but without them, it's like you are a completely different person... That the stranger I see in the classroom isn't the same person who walked the Earth for as long as I had or stopped armageddon...or shared wine in my book shop. I know it's still you but your eyes...” 

He’d always thought there was some beauty in their uniqueness. If he were braver he would confess to the way he sought glances of those golden eyes from the very first time they met. If this worry in his heart didn’t stop him from spewing truth he would’ve told Crowley how disappointed he became once he started to wear sunglasses.

“... And it discomforts you as well.”

“It’s alright angel,” Crowley said before falling asleep.

When Crowley opened his eyes the thudding pain completely vanished and so had the sunlight that drifted into their living area. 

“Are you feeling better?” Aziraphale asked looking down. “The glamour is gone.” 

“You've missed dinner.”

“Not to worry, I had sent a message to inform of our absence. I didn't want Dumbledore interrupting your sleep.”

Nothing could interrupt his sleep if he didn't want it to but the gesture was sweet. Even sweeter was the way Aziraphale didn’t force him out of this comfortable position. It would’ve been so easy for the angel to send him to the bed with a snap of his fingers.

“There are those house-elves that can get anything right?” 

“Well, there is a limitation you see they-”

Crowley slid his hand up Aziraphale’s arm. It was still too soon to get a whole history lesson.

“Y-yes.”

“How do you summon them?” 

“You just can out their name. Winky.”

With a cracked pop a strange creature appeared its ears were large and its eyes grew to the size of saucers even before they landed on him.

“What can Winky do for you?” the house-elf asked in a high squeaky voice.

Turning his face a bit more to properly see the thing he thought. “Could you fetch us some of that tart from the Great Hall ... and wine” he added before the house-elf snapped its fingers and disappeared.

“Professors shouldn't drink” Aziraphale half-heartedly scolded.

“It is way after school hours professor,” he said slowly rising from his position in Aziraphale’s lap. 

The way Aziraphale didn't say anything or promptly put space between the was proof that the angel enjoyed the title. Aziraphale might be a principality but the archangels had never seen him as an equal level authority. Perhaps being a professor was the first time he had not been looked down upon. 

“Here you are sirs” Winky squeaked, almost tossing the large tart and bottle of wine onto the small coffee table before leaving.

“Why a tart?” Aziraphale asked clearly, unable to not eye up the snack.

“It was the one thing you didn't get to try earlier” he smirked pulling the tart out of Aziraphale reach when Aziraphale moved for it. 

“Allow me,'' he said, dipping a spoon into the tart. He tried to put on a brave face without glasses acting as a barrier he knew Aziraphale would see the moment he let on to how nerve-wracking it was to actually do this. They've eaten together many times, well him watching Aziraphale eat. Never had he fed Aziraphale but he didn't want to botch this up.

“Payback for you letting me rest,” he said softly.

“There's no need.”

“Come on Aziraphale.” He sounded like a whining child not getting his way but the sooner Aziraphale accepted this the sooner he could settle the heat in his own cheeks and the slight tremor to his hand. 

Innocent lips opened for him; he really didn't want to muck it up. 

Sole focus rested on those lips as he veered the spoon into Aziraphale's open mouth. He watched as a pink tongue licked at the filling. 

“Is it good?” he asked, forcing his voice so quiet.

“Yes.”

Those lips formed the words as he brought another spoonful to it. Perhaps he was moving things along too fast between them that they should stick to less intimate actions of affection. The divide between them as part of some inevitable plan had not ended so long ago. He’d always moved too fast, taking to the angel like a moth to the flame. Since the admission to give away his flaming sword to Adam and Eve... 6000 years together should've been far more than enough time to settle that sort of thing out. 

6000 years may have seemed too slow to humans but Aziraphale once said it had been too fast forming their own side. Too quick to propose lunch dates that had always left him wanting to remain by Aziraphale's side. But Aziraphale hadn't asked to slow down since Armageddon ended. Lunch dates stretched into diners and hands found home in one another's. So until Aziraphale protested in earnest he would continue feeding him like this.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, pausing him from letting the last spoonful from entering.

“You should have some too,” Aziraphale said, taking the spoon from his hand. 

He knew his face had to look completely uncool as he half-laughed half-choked on the words he wanted to say. Resisting making a complete arse of himself he opened his mouth. The spoonful slipped in with little fanfare. Eating had hardly appealed to him before but he was sure that if Aziraphale fed him a single spoonful every day he could get addicted to it.

“It's good.”

“You really should try more of the food here,” Aziraphale said laying the dish onto the table which vanished. “Oh must be automatic.” 

He snorted a little at Aziraphale’s surprise.

Aziraphale stared at the clock. “It’s past midnight... Will you be going back to sleep?”

“Not sure.” He could always do with more sleep. “...Unless you need something angel.”

“I could use a hand preparing some questions for tomorrow's quiz.”

“A quiz already?” 

“It's a good way to see where the students are.”

“You are cruel to test them so early professor” he teased, moving to pick up a textbook.


	3. Coworkers

Crowley felt quite proud of himself for being useful to Aziraphale last night well, that and the moment they shared with the tart. The thing that dampened his good mood this morning was seeing the old coot again in their living area. 

“Good morning.'' 

The second the old man's stick lifted from his robes he shifted into a snake, readied to lunge if the old fool was daft enough to try any of his magic. The sudden shift of his form made the man stumbled back to the fireplace which he admitted brightened his day.

“I'm sorry,” Aziraphale said as the old man regained his composure.

“I should've expected something like that,” the old man said, his hand still placed on his heart.

Knowing it would be bad to have the old man kill over he returned to his more human-like form.

“I've decided not to continue with that glamour shit.”

“Crowley and I,” Aziraphel jumped into the conversation before the old man could argue. “think it would be better if he didn’t deal with it. You see, it was bothering him.”

“Oh?”

He didn't like the way the old man's eyes twinkled as if he just received an epiphany. Money down he’d bet it was the fact that the magic of this world could bother them. He almost wanted to snap at Aziraphale for giving away that fact. Now the old man might think he was invincible against them, maybe he was, there was still so much about this world they didn't know. 

“What will you do about him?” the old coot asked Aziraphale.

“You don't need to speak as though he's not here,” Aziraphale said sternly.

“I'll just rock my sunglasses. I’ve done it for centuries, your lot will get used to it” he said dawning his shades as the man looked a bit stunned at Aziraphale. 

“Very well, I shall return when there are updates on the portal.”

Feeling as though they've cleared the first hurdle of the day Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand.

“Shall we get to breakfast?”

It felt so good to have Crowley looking like himself again. Though he was having the slightest guilt for being rather rude to Dumbledore he knew he had to stick up for Crowley. Really it was horrible to talk down to him like that... He wanted to apologize for not doing so sooner, but it appeared that Crowley was already talking with Slughorn. 

“Quiet unique aura,” a woman with large glasses said leaning over her plate to stare uncomfortably close.

“Excuse me?”

“Quiet unique.” She blinked. 

“Yes... Your scarf is in your eggs.”

“Oh.” she leaned back. “That happens you know. Would’ve foreseen it if I hadn’t rushed down for breakfast.”

“Foresee?”

“I’m Trewlany professor of divination.” 

“Divination,” he asked, perking up. Now that was something that he was definitely interested in. Prophecies from Agnus Nutter had to be on par with this woman’s ability. Or maybe she was even greater.

Trelawny smiled, her enlarged eyes looking him up and down. “Would you like to join me for tea?”

The absence of the old man at breakfast had thoroughly improved having Slughorn plop down beside him yet again making comments about his new look. Indeed far more eyes directed towards him but none like the prolonged stare from days before. Not so coincidentally the boy who had fallen into him was absent from the Slytherin table. 

“I do say I should get a pair like yours,” Slughorn said. 

“Don't think so,” he said with just a hint of hiss to his voice. The ultimate last thing he wanted was every professor roaming around in sunglasses to look cool. 

“Ah yes, best leave it to the younger generation.” 

Smirking he thought of how much the man's head would spin if he revealed his actual human age. Glancing at Aziraphale he watched the angel engaged in a discussion with a woman who wore a shall, large glasses, and a beaded headband. 

_ “And they think sunglasses are odd,” _ he thought.

“What's the story of you two if you don't mind my asking?”

Certain that this man did have the time for him to recount all 6000 years spent with Aziraphale he simply said “We've worked together for a long time.”

“Must be more well known in America. I couldn't find any of your work within our library.” Slughorn puffed up his chest like a rather large bird. “I happen to know many influential people in Britain. For one I know many people within the Quidditch....” 

_ “Ah he's one of those people,” _ he thought. “...Wait.” 

Slughorn paused in listing influential connections.

“Do you have information on portals?”

“Portals?” Slughorn knit his brows in deep concentration. “I could look into my address book. Is that what you've been currently working on?” 

“You could say so.”

“Well, I can introduce you to my other connections.”

“Perhaps another time,” he said, noticing Aziraphale’s conversation had come to an end. “Ready to go?” he asked the angel.

“Yes.”

***

No matter what Aziraphale said assigning a quiz was the evilest thing he could do on their second day of teaching. The collective groans of disappointment felt like a perfect pay back to the earlier muttering about his glasses. Though they should've been more grateful that he persuaded Aziraphale out of adding far too many short answer questions. The quiz was still a bit too long for his taste, then again, a ten multiple question quiz would still be too many for his taste. 

When the students pulled out quills and inkwells he had to resist shuddering. He hated using those blasted things even when it was considered new technology. 

“It wasn't supposed to take this long,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Not everyone's got a memory like yours.” He eyed the brown-haired boy glancing towards the blond boy next to him.

_ “Cheating already?” _ he thought with a roll of his eyes.

“I was going to lecture after this.” 

“Relax angel they can barely ink their names within a minute. Why are they even using quills in this dimension?”

“Not sure.”

“It wasn't in your  _ Hogwarts: a History _ ?”

Aziraphale’s chuckle echoed in the quiet room pulling a few cursory glances towards them. 

“Back to your test,” he said.

_ “He’s staring again,” _ he thought, catching the brunette dipping his head when he turned.

_ “I need to figure out what this kids’ problem is.” _

With the ring of the dismissal bell came muttered comments and stacks of tests turned in. He kept an extra close eye on the paper of the brunette who was quick to run off with the blond boy

_ “Partners in crime?” _

He wondered if it was too early to concern Aziraphael about stupid stares. It wasn't as if this one kid would be as powerful as the antichrist from their dimension... right?

Aziraphale continued to mess with the stack of papers in his hand. Really he couldn’t see why the class hadn’t finished their quiz earlier. There was so much that he wanted to cover, but just looking at the few papers he skimmed through it looked as though he’d have to really narrow down his approach. 

“What is it?” he asked when he noticed that Crowley too was looking at the turned in papers.

“I’ll assist with your grading.”

“You're planning on failing them aren't you?” 

“You said that I could cause a little mischief though you seem to already have a few cheaters in your class professor,” Crowley said leaning against the desk. 

“Cheaters?” he asked, ignoring just how cool Crowley looked right now. 

“At the very least two,” Crowley smirked, tilting his glasses down his nose just enough for their eyes to connect.

Moving closer he tried to take the paper only for Crowley to hold it just out of reach making him lean forward.

“Hand it over Crowley.”

He chuckled at Aziraphale’s missed attempt. Sometimes it was fun to mess with the poor angel. 

“Professor?” a woman’s voice came from behind them. 

“Ah!” Aziraphale yelped, pushing his glasses a bit too roughly up his face.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“As you should be,'' he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“It's my fault,” Aziraphale said. “Crowley, this is professor Trelawney. I promised to speak with her about prophecies.”

“Haven't you had enough of that?”

“It could be the answer for why we are here” Aziraphale whispered. “Will you join us?”

“Ummm” he looked at her large bug-eyed glasses. His sunglasses were hardly as distracting as that. “You go ahead I'll start on grading.”

“Crowley,”

“Fine I won't but go on I'll do my best not to cause too much trouble.”

“You should speak with your friend,” Aziraphale suggested.

He looked to the stack of quizzes “Perhaps I should.”

Aziraphale did his best not to worry about being separated from Crowley. After all they hadn’t exactly spent every second of every day together back in their dimension. Crowley could be trusted not to ‘accidentally’ set something on fire or raise a revolution in the time it would take for him to talk with Trewlany. 

“You two have a very strong connection” she mentioned as they walked along.”I’ve only seen a handful so close.”

“Yes well, we have known each other for many years.”

With a pull of a handle from above, they took the ladder up into a large room covered in throw pillows and the strongest incense he’d ever inhaled. Politely he tried to conceal the tickle in this throat as she motioned him over to a large crystal ball in the dead center of the room. 

“So you teach divination to all students?”

“I do my best but only a few have the gift.” With a tilt of her hand, she motioned for him to take up the pillowed seat from across from her.

“I can see you have many questions,” she said, waving her hands around the crystal ball.

“Yes I-”

“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger to her lips before returning to her circular hand movements. “I see that you are from a place far away.”

He nodded. 

“Ah, very interesting....”

Leaning forward he peered into the crystal ball trying to see whatever she saw within the smoke. Unfortunately, he could hardly make out a thing. 

“You were born into a family with turmoil. A singular person pulled you away from your situation though it came with questioning much of what you knew.”

There were a few things that needed correction in her predictions but he continued to listen intensely. 

“ Although you’ve been set in a loop for much of your life I see changes approaching... especially among those you hold dear. If you are not careful you may lose them.”

“WHAT!” he jutted forward trying to see this but only ended up knocking the crystal ball to the floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” he dived for the ball.

“Not to worry,” Trewlany said, levitating the ball back into place with her wand. “Quite sturdy these are a blessing and a curse I assure you. Once a student tried to hurl her crystal ball at me” she laughed.

“Trelawny,”

“Oh right right you wanted to know about prophecies” she hurried to a shelf covered in various knick-knacks. “Oh darn,” she said just as the clock on her wall chimed. “I needed to speak with Flitwick. I really must warn him about not putting cream in his tea today.”

“Cream?”

Trewlany turned around almost as if she’d forgotten he was still there. “Oh yes, bad luck would fall on him if he took cream with his tea today.”

Even though he thought that was rather silly he didn’t say a word. Who knew what resulted in good or bad luck in this dimension. 

“I must run, but” her fingers wiggled before picking out a book from the shelf. “Here are some beginner's guides to prophecies.”

“Thank you?” he managed to get out before she hurried him along.

  
  


Finding the dungeons was easier than Crowley expected. With all the students roaming about he couldn't miracle a faster route.

“Felix felicis” he said when he ran into a wall at the end of a lengthy descending staircase. Instantly a passage opened up to him. He gave a low whistle as he took in the setup. A large glass window like an aquarium shaded the room in green light. Several kids were huddled around the fireplace on cozy couches similar to the one in their living area. 

“Came for a visit ol’ boy?” Slughorn said cheerfully. “Right this way.”

Begrudgingly he let the man lead him into an office space that was littered with various trophies and autographed pictures.

“Would you care for a drink?”

He raised a brow at the man pouring an amber liquid. “Don't you find it improper to drink when there are students nearby?”

Slughorn laughed, “That's hardly an issue. What’s a drink to unwind from the day. Trust me you will need it to get through teaching this lot.” Slughorn swirled his glass around. 

Crowley smirked. This had to be one of the few times a human had tempted a demon.

“You have a point” he picked up the second glass. 

Knocking it back perhaps too quickly from the sweet burn down his throat. For one thing, he now knew that alcohol in this world was strong and that's what he liked. 

“Good to see I was right,” Slughorn smiled, sipping his own drink.

“Right about what?”

“That you would be a great drinking partner,” Slughorn said, filling his cup once more.

It was nearly frightening how quickly Slughorn got drunk. It really wasn't a position a professor should be in as hypocritical as that was for him to think- he too felt quite buzzed. 

“I would love to hear more about your adventures. You know as the head of Slytherin I've grown quite the list of important people in my back pocket.”

“You've mentioned that before.”

“Even got the chosen one; does not return my letters though. That Potter is always so busy.”

“Potter?” he asked, recalling the name from his class.

“Not the one here. His son is you know, quiet,” Slughorn paused swishing his drink. “Yup that one; keep an eye on him I do.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

The son of a chosen one had to be important. That's how these things went, didn't it? Glory and destiny passed down through generations.

“What's to tell that's not already known?” Slughorn finally replaced the glass bottle back into the cabinet. “Should get onto my duties” Slughorn said, downing an acidic green potion that seemed to remove all the drunkenness from him. “Best you sober up too.”

Crowley took the vial stashing it into his pocket when the man looked away. He didn't want to chance a severe reaction to the stuff. He had to find out the effects of these sorts of things to him and Aziraphale before carelessly taking it.

Exiting the office he expected the man to check in on the students or give a warning to the students literally playing with fire but there was this set determination to leave the dungeons altogether. 

“I have an important club meeting to attend, Slug Club a real whos who. Perhaps you two should join some night.”

“Maybe... I must get back to A- professor Redden to discuss our work.” 

“Portals yes I'll be sure to ask about that.”

He felt eyes on him when the man said portals but by the time the sentence finished whoever was eavesdropping had disappeared.

  
  


The book he had been granted wasn’t anything that he expected. It was hardly a textbook, much less a nice list of prophecies like the other books he had collected back home. 

Sighing, he wished that he had been properly warned about portals and dimensions before a few days ago. If Agnes Nutter had written a second book perhaps he would’ve received a warning. So far all he’d gathered from this book was that a small percentage of witches and wizards could accurately predict the future and that most prophecies were archived elsewhere. 

With a click of the door, Crowley stepped into their living area.

“You came back early. How was your chat with...”

“Trelawny.”

“Yeah, bug eyes.”

He tried not to snicker, it would be not nice to laugh at such a childish name. 

“Anything interesting?” Crowley asked slouching over the edge of the love seat. 

“Unfortunately she wasn't all that good at predicting things. She couldn't predict anything from my past.”

“That is a tall order,” Crowley said, reclining into the seat beside him. “Not everyone can be so prolific as Agnes Nutter.” 

“I just thought that they would be able to really know things that we don’t being magical and all.”

He didn’t want to admit the disappointment he felt towards all of this. Angels were hardly given the reason behind things such as prophecies, more than not they were messengers. That’s what made humans with predicting abilities so fascinating back home. Not having Trewlany’s abilities work out made things slightly more complicated. They needed to know why they were in this dimension. Even though she didn’t seem that accurate he did wonder what she meant about things changing between him and those he cared about.

Closing his book he asked “What about you? Enjoyed your time with Slughorn?”

“Well, I got this” Crowley pulled out the vial. “Hangover potion I guess.”

“You were drinking with a professor?” he asked, taking the vial just in case Dulmbedore decided to pop in. What would Dumbledore say if he found out Crowley had tempted Slughorn into a drink, or more likely ten. 

“Don't look at me that way. It was completely the man’s idea. Guess it wasn't far off to have framed him having taken to the bottle too often. He wants us to share grand tales and whatnot to his club.” 

“I-I don't know about that.” 

“Agreed. He seems like one arrogant bastard; those are the worst to deal with.”

He didn’t know what to think about all this. 

Thin fingers slid up against his wrist. 

“We’ll figure out things.”

He didn’t want to doubt that. It had only been a few days from home, he couldn’t give up so easily.

“Should I call for some wine?” Crowley asked, his fingers drawing figure eights along the back of his hand.

“I could use your help shortening my lesson for tomorrow.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”


	4. Sunglasses

Walking along the halls mid ditching the meeting the old coot had called he noticed the suspicious cluster of students in the courtyard.

“He's coming” one whispered as he approached. 

“Good afternoon professor.”

He still couldn't get used to that title. A professor was something that he never thought about being.

“What are you up to?” He wanted to add on ‘and how can I help’ but managed to refrain until he had a better idea of what they were planning. Aziraphale wouldn't speak to him again if he aided in anything horrific and based on the texts Aziraphale read out loud every evening, even simple spells could turn dangerous.

“Nothing.”

Her words paused as he held out his hand. “Hand it over.”

“But,” Another student halfheartedly protested,

“I would really hate to get the headmaster involved.”

“Fine,” the girl sighed, placing in his hand a pair of sunglasses.

“What's this?” he asked, turning it over.

“They're muggle. No charms or anything I promise.”

Carefully he removed his own glasses and tried on the pair. “It appears that you are telling the truth” he smirked, putting on his own pair. 

“We just wanted to try them out, you know.”

“Ah” he looked from the glasses to the four girls. “Well, it doesn't seem fair for you all to share.”

Not giving it a single thought he multiplied the pair in his hand and returned them to the group of now smiling students.

_ “Enough of good deeds for today,” _ he thought as he walked off. Balance was key after all, gifting sunglasses and ditching meetings.

Aziraphale should’ve known Crowley was going to ditch this meeting when he said he was going for a quick stretch of his legs beforehand. Not that he could fully blame Crowley for wandering off. The things Dumbledore was saying at the moment was hardly noteworthy or helpful. He wasn’t sure if the ultimate boredom he was feeling was because of the bland topic of conversation or that Crowley wasn’t around to mutter things that made him laugh. Then there was the matter with Trewlany. 

So far he'd been playing it cool but he couldn't help worry about something coming to take Crowley away after what Trewlany said. Besides, it didn't help that Dumbledore was sending the ‘where is Crowley’ look. He didn't like that look one bit. Crowley could be trusted not to cause too much trouble still, he needed to bring Crowley in for the next meeting. They needed Dumbledore's help to get back home.

Aziraphale was in a pouting mood when he “remembered” there was a meeting and just happened to show up as it came to an end. 

“The meeting didn’t go well?”

Aziraphale huffed. “It was quite informative if you must know.” 

“Informative?” he scoffed. “You and I both know what that means.”

Aziraphale smirked and he wanted to turn that into a full-blown smile.

“I helped a few of our students while you bravely endured that meeting,” he said proudly.

“Doing what?”

“Ever the suspicious” he teased, taking Aziraphale’s hand. “They just wanted sunglasses; non-demonic or magic-powered kind.”

“I don't see anything wrong with that” Aziraphale smiled.

“Would you like to go somewhere?”

“Lead the way.”

“As a reward for dealing with the old coot alone,” 

“-I don't need to be rewarded for that.”

“ Angel” he sighed. 

Some habits never died - especially ones kept on far over 6,000 years. Aziraphale always saw no reason that good work had to be rewarded, though Crowley had figured out offering a meal would always be accepted. Nothing was wrong with rewarding yourself here and there.

“Come on” he pushed through the large wooden doors.

Aziraphale looked as though he'd gone to heaven- not the real one he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t like that- this place fell more into the angel’s more personal depiction of heaven. For Crowley, it was just the school's library.

“Found it while stretching my legs.”

“You know we aren't going to leave anytime soon,” Aziraphale said, somehow containing himself from literally glowing with joy.

“I've already warned the librarian that she won't be able to keep you away from this place.”

Letting Aziraphale’s hand slip from his own he watched the giddy angle roam towards the shelves.

Receiving books from Winky the house-elf was all good but Aziraphale had to admit he missed pursuing stacks filled with books and picking out titles that he found interesting. How else was he supposed to know the various topics of books he could find in Hogwarts without coming here? If Hogwarts had one of those directories like in large shopping malls Crowley once took him to he would’ve found his way to the library on their very first day. 

The more he saw the more he imagined what life would be like if he had been born into this dimension. If he weren’t an angel and Crowley weren’t a demon would they have still met up here at this school? If they did he'd probably be sat in Hufflepuff, Crowley on the other hand could be in Gryffindor he was rather brave or maybe he would just stick to Slytherin for snake aesthetics alone. These were silly thoughts, ones that came and went as he ran between placing books on an available table and perusing the titles. They should focus more on the pressing matters of portals and dimensions still, it was fun to imagine.

“Angel,” Crowley said, easily balancing his stack of books with one hand against his hips. “We are getting kicked out. The library is closing.” Crowley tilted his head towards the librarian who was grimacing.

“Don't worry you can come back again.” 

“Of course” he smiled. “Should I lend you a hand?”

“I got it angel.”

Crowley looked so cool; he always did. Some would say it was his sunglasses but it was just everything about him from the way he balanced books against his hip or walked by crossing one leg over the other like a model. Or his form-fitting pants, or his fiery red hair that looked amazing with any style, or...

“Angel?”

He stumbled bumping into Crowley nearly causing both the books and them to fall. 

“You have to be more careful.”

“Ah yes,” he glanced at the ground feeling like a fool for letting his mind wander so far away.

“Are you sure you are alright?”

“L-let me help you with those books. They’re mine after all.”

“If you insist” Crowley smirked, noticing the pinked cheeks that always looked so tempting. If only Aziraphale knew how much he fought to keep their interaction to just holding hands Aziraphale would never look at him the same way. There was just something about how cute those small smiles... The want to hold Aziraphale for the moment longer, the want to kiss him, turned him into a bumbling fool inside. 

A few whispers refocused the world around them.

“We better be on our way.”

In the Great Hall that night he spotted the four Slytherins wearing sunglasses. It appeared that the old man too took notice of the group happily parading around the new look.

_ “Well, this should be interesting.”  _

***

Soon half of the class had sunglasses on. It was like peering down on his own little army. Children were easy enough to influence even without a demonic miracle. If they were going to emulate him he couldn’t stop them. The fact that it upset the old man would just be the cherry on top. 

“Crowley, you shouldn't be handing out sunglasses to the whole school” Aziraphale scolded once their class ended.

“Now that's an idea.”

Aziraphale pouted. 

“It's a fad angel soon enough they'll get tired of it. Humans will always grasp onto some trend remember the 80s?” 

“You know I find that time of dress a bit... much.”

He chuckled. 

Aziraphale never could get the handle on what was popular, always jumping onto styles just as they began to fall out of favor. This perhaps was the first time in decades he'd not seen him dawned in his typical coat. 

“It'll pass,” he assured. 

***

“Apparently you were wrong my dear” Aziraphale whispered as the halls were over flooded by students wearing sunglasses.

“Fads professor Redden,'' he said, catching the eye of one of the Ravenclaws pulling glasses out of a bag that may or may nor have been placed there by him when no one was looking.

“Mr. Bristow. Mr. Redden” the old man called them. “A moment if you'd please.”

Rolling his eyes he followed into the nearest empty classroom. 

This was bad and he knew it. Dumbledore has not approached them in a few days and in that meantime, this whole glasses fad had really picked up. In part, he was to blame for giving Crowley the idea to hand out glasses, but he’d hoped it would speed up the fad. From personal experience, once everyone had the same new thing it was about time they found something else to want.

“I would like to know the meaning of this” Dumbledore said, his eyes peering seriously behind those half-moon glasses.

“What exactly?” Crowley asked.

“You know very well I refer to the overrun of eyewear,” Dumbledore said rudely. “Are you sure you have control over him?”

“I don't see what's wrong with it, it's a fad. Surely you must have those in this dimension too” he said a bit tartly. 

“Yes, but there are rules at Hogwarts and I've received complaints from other staff members that students have used them to cheat on tests and a few had been to the infirmary for running into things in the late evening.”

“Wouldn't be a problem if you did not only rely on fire for lighting” Crowley muttered.

Although he did have a point Aziraphale knew this wasn’t the time to bring that up. Sometimes it was better for all to abide by the rules.

“If you don't put a stop to this then I will.”

“Understood,” Crowley said. “What of your connections to return us home?”

“Regretfully my contacts have yet to be reached. Good day gentlemen.”

Once Dumbledore left he felt Crowley's hand take his. “Aziraphale I didn't cause-”

“I know you wouldn't mean to hurt kids.” 

“I'll handle it.”

“Crowley I think-”

“Don't worry angel. Let’s get to class.”

It felt wrong to be so nervous about what Crowley had in mind. Of course, he trusted Crowley but sometimes Crowley's ideas were well frankly too mischievous; everything just had this tendency to go awry. To be fair his own ideas weren't always of a higher caliber than sheer luck. Many times it led him to get into situations that required help getting out of. 

_ “He really does help me out more times than I can count,”  _ he thought.

Perhaps it was in their nature to balance each other out. Vividly he remembered all that they had done together a wondrous partnership in which he should let Crowley take the reins now and again. After all, Crowley was trying to fix his own little mess right now.

“You must stop looking at me that way,” Crowley said softly.

He had no idea what sort of face he had been making though right now he was smiling a little more. 

In heaven, angels were taught about demons- how they were fallen and should never be forgiven of their crimes. The archangels went into extreme details about their wickedness, their hideous features that couldn't even be hidden in their human bodies. It was said that to be touched by a demon was to be touching hellfire itself. They were wrong of course. Many things Gabriel, in particular, told him was wrong. 

Touching Crowley never burned him not even once. And when Crowley touched him, he did it so tenderly so slowly as if any sudden movement would set him ablaze. There was no sense in such fragility among them when they touched. They both were tougher than they looked. Yet all the same his heart momentarily stopped functioning when their eyes met or Crowley ran the pad of his thumb over his cheek like he was doing right now. The more he thought about it, about them, the more each touch brought him closer to becoming a puddled mess under Crowley's hands. Sometimes that was all too frightening. All too fast. 

“Ready angel?” Crowley whispered, removing his touch.

“Yes,” he said, trying to settle himself. It wasn’t good to run away with his thoughts. There was a job to do. “We should let the students in.”

Nervousness splayed all over Aziraphale’s face made him hesitate going through with his plan. They trusted each other though it was far easier for a demon to trust an angel than vise versa- a fact easily recited by anyone. For all his talk of making their own side, he truly wanted to believe the distinction between what they were hardly mattered anymore. Facts were facts, however. If they were both demons or angels he wondered what they would be like instead. If he hadn't fallen would Aziraphale still be so hesitant to let him deal with this?

_ “Don't think of that rubbish” _ he told himself as the students ushered in. 

Now all were sporting sunglasses. How he wished he could convince Aziraphale to take a picture of him with this crowd. Head office would’ve gotten a kick out of something like this ...well when they thought he was the best demon upon Earth.

“Alright listen up!” he said, feeling that he should have provided a slide show of sorts- it had done wonders pushing along his half-brained schemes in hell. “As much as I do enjoy all of this” he motioned to them. “It has come to my attention that it has been a nuisance for other classes. We've spoken with your headmaster who wants to ban their use immediately.”

The hand of a blond Slytherin shot up. “What about yours?”

“My glasses are special. I was...” he searched his mind for a plausible reason. “Cursed a while back. I've attempted to use a glamour but these serve me better.”

A few muttered shatter among the students held speculation- some that would without a doubt snowball into ridiculous rumors that he hoped would make great material to laugh about with Aziraphale at the end of their days.

“In exchange for inadvertently ruling perhaps one of the best fads to grace this school, I’ll offer up something better.”

He winked at Aziraphale’s nervous smile.

_ “It is cute how he worries so much, _ ” he thought, reaching into his pocket.

“Behold,” he said, raising the object high above his head. “Behold the mightly ballpoint pen far better than these stupid quills. I mean why are you still using it?”

“Finally!” one student said.

With a snap he changed all their sunglasses into pens. Several students marveled at him, for his ‘magic’ or the introduction of pens he wasn't sure. Suddenly there was a low clap that developed into wondrous applause that he couldn't do a thing but take it in. When had he last been applauded like this? He couldn't get a wahoo out of a single demon for his past deeds. 

When it died down he motioned for Aziraphale to come up to the front. 

“So let's continue with....”

“They really like you,” Aziraphale said, watching as Crowley unbutton the top portion of his shirt in the comfort of their living area.

“Who?”

“The students” he averted his eyes just a little. “First the glasses now pens ... Would you like to lead a lesson?”

“Couldn't. Never was up for rules and whatnot probably muck it up.”

He shook his head. “I think you would do great. Much better than putting them to sleep.”

“Yeah I saw that kid in the back row” Crowley smiled. “If you are concerned about them passing out then perhaps you should change up your lesson plans professor.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well a defense class should be more physical shouldn't it?”

“But we can’t do magic like them.”

“Well, all defense stems from basic instinct or something right? Can’t be too different from swordplay.”

Crowley had a point. He was once the principality responsible for guarding the eastern gate. He was trained in swords, particularly flaming ones. And it was a little silly to learn how to defend oneself only through reading books. 

“Do you have any ideas on how to make a more physical lesson?”

Crowley smiled. “I had skimmed the text; a lot of rubbish but I did come across a few things.'' Crowley snaked his arm around him. “Lots about elbows extended and bent,” he said, guiding Aziraphale's elbow with the trips of his fingers. “And hand placement.” Crowley’s fingers guided his arm easily manipulating his hand at the wrist “attack” flatten forward “deflect” hand pointed downward. 

“That's good for basics,” he said quickly before he had a chance to focus on the way Crowley was touching him.

“But what of spells?” 

“We just need some flash and bang nonsense.”

“I suppose you're right. We would need wands.”

“Let’s take care of that then” Crowley led him out of their room not even a little concerned about the way his opened shirt exposed his neck down to below his collar bone.

From the tightness of Aziraphale’s grasp, he could still feel his hesitation. More than anything he wanted to do right by Aziraphale. Causing a fuss to annoy the headmaster couldn’t interfere with Aziraphale’s enjoyment of this place of teaching. Through the halls he hurried into the courtyard stopping by the tree. 

_ “This will do” _ he thought, snapping off a decent-sized twig. “Here you are, professor your own wand.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “It's just a stick.”

“As if they know the difference. We could say we got them on one of our travels together.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks tinted beautiful pink. 

“Perhaps you're right” A simple stick wasn’t good enough. Focusing hard he willed the stick to look more put together. He didn't want Aziraphale to have the world's most boring looking stick in Hogwarts. The once brown stick now was changed into cream color with a fine line of blue matching Aziraphale’s eyes embedded around it.

“Now this is more suitable for the finest professor in Hogwarts.”

Aziraphale’s ears were aflame as he took the new wand from Crowley cradling it as if it were a newborn. It was beautiful beyond words. For a long moment, he just ran his fingertips over the carved wing details.

“Could I..I would like to make yours” he said snapping off a twig at the same size before Crowley could protest. Glancing at Crowley he tried to think of what sort of wand he would like. Crowley was cool and a little flashy. He wanted to reflect that somehow. Closing his eyes he pulled the want into the wand shaping it into something Crowley could proudly adore even if he insisted calling wands sticks.

Opening his eyes he felt a bit disappointed in himself for just making a simple black wand. Really it was no better than the fake wands he used for his magic show back home.

“Maybe I should try again.” 

“It's a fine angel,” Crowley smiled, taking the wand.

Perhaps Crowley just had more imagination than he did- that's what made him wily according to Gabriel- the ability to create from desires. To him, it made Crowley all the more interesting. 

Why couldn't he show that in this wand he made for him? 

As if hearing his concerns the wand ignited a little then some more until golden etchings like scales littered the wand. When Crowley lifted his new wand they both noticed the way the light against casted hints of a rainbow in its shadow. 

“Now they’ll think I’m some flash bastard” Crowley smiled. 

He couldn't help but laugh. 


	5. Detention For The Antichrist

Between curtailing the use of sunglasses and admiring the stick Aziraphale gave him Crowley didn't put too much thought into the feeling of being watched. But there it was again and again like a mosquito that vanished every time he tried to catch it. Today he noticed it was that Potter boy, his eyes always following him around. Lazily he pointed his stick towards the boy causing him to jump out of his chair in mid-lecture. He snorted at the reaction as everyone turned to look at him.

“Is there a problem Mr. Potter?” Aziraphale asked. 

“No.” 

Crowley watched as the blond boy next to him gave a look as he sat back down.

“Perhaps it's the perfect time to try something basic defense stances.” Aziraphale smiled. “Alright everyone pair up.”

Crowley moved around the room helping Aziraphale correct students' elbow positions all while keeping an eye on the two boys. To be fair they seemed to be doing the same. 

“What was that all about in class?'' Aziraphale asked once the students were gone. 

“There's something about that Potter kid.” 

“He did seem rather distracted but most students can get like that.”

Truth be told he didn't want Crowley’s suspicions to get blown out of proportion. It had to be in part in Crowley’s head. Not to be rude of course it was just he didn't want to think that there could be anything off about any of his students.

“Perhaps you're right.”

***

“Professor Redden would you care for a reading?” Trelawny asked, catching Aziraphale just as he was returning a few of his borrowed books. 

“Well,”

“Excellent,” she said, taking his hand. 

He’d read about palm reading but he never thought it would feel so... uncomfortable. The way she flattened out his hand tilting it every which way while unblinkingly staring made it hard not to snatch his hand free.

“Hmmm...” she took his other hand giving it the same treatment. “You are right-handed, correct?”

“Yes.”

She pulled at his left hand. “Non-dominant hand reveals your character while the other shows how you've actualized those traits. I can see that you are sensitive to the world around you...your lifeline is hardly visible.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he said, hoping to move things along. She pressed against the base of his thumb. “But you do worry about those you love.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

She traced the top horizontal line of his palm. “ This governs all matters of the heart...Oh, there is a potential of restlessness with a very deep relationship or yours. Oh dear, I hoped I was wrong before you seem like such a wonderful person.” Finally letting go of his hands she gave him a sad smile. “I do wish you luck.”

First, she said that there would be changes now this? If Crowley were here he’d have a good laugh but if Trewlany was right...He knew things were changing between him and Crowley. If her warnings were to be taken into consideration then...maybe these sorts of changes needed to be stopped. He would do anything to keep Crowley beside him.

When Aziraphale returned from the library Crowley expected the angel to be carrying in a few new books or at least look happy but he just stared at his own hands as if they were not his own.

“Aziraphale?”

“Huh? Were you saying something?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything is tickety boo. Just have a few things on my mind.”

“Anything that I can help with?”

“Scouts honor I’ll not mess up grading papers.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“I was for a brief moment.”

“I didn't know that.”

“There's much you don't know about me.”

It was supposed to be a teasing line but perhaps for the first time in a while, it looked as though what he said had hurt Aziraphale. Something had to happen in that library.

“I think I’ll fiddle around in the kitchen for a bit.”

Now he had to find out the problem.

Leaving Aziraphale to cooking he left their chambers into the empty classroom. 

_ “When I find out who upset Aziraphale I’m going to...”  _ he stopped that thought.

What could he do? The old coot breathed down his neck for just letting a few students wearing sunglasses if he did anything involving ‘demonic magic’ he was sure he'd be kicked out faster than he could say goodbye. And if that happened Aziraphale would bever forgive him. That was a problem that he couldn't exactly nap through. 

Easing his grip on the doorknob he tried to come up with a way to get revenge without losing Aziraphale. 

A knock stopped his already stalled train of thought. 

There stood the strict old woman Minerva her face was withholding of what she felt. Over their time here he had expected more trouble from her poking her nose around, but somehow they’d come to an unspoken agreement not to interfere with one another.

“Evening Mr. Bristow may I come in for a moment?”

“Sure.”

There was no sense in angering this woman.

“If you need Mr. Redden he’s cooking at the moment.”

“That is fine though I would appreciate you relaying my message to him.”

_ “Here it comes.” _ he thought, preparing himself for a lengthy lecture on how Aziraphale should keep him in order. 

Minerva pulled out two small books from her robes. “A token of goodwill. They’ll help you keep organized.”

“T-thank you?” he sputtered accepting the schedule books.

“I must admit when you both arrived I had so many doubts. Dumbledore had the tendency to hire with little consideration for this position. There have been a fair amount of imbeciles and polyjuiced individuals in this school because of it. I expected the worst of you two appearing out of nowhere... after nearly losing the headmaster and the war...” She shook her head. “I have seen that you both value education and our students.”

Did he? Sure he liked the kids but she made it sound like he was a blessing to this school.

“Thank you for your hard work. I know it is not easy taking on this position. That being said, I will not hesitate to come after you with everything I got if-”

“I understand,” he smirked. “I’ll be sure to tell professor Redden the same.”

Minerva flashed the tiniest smile before leaving.

_ “I really like her,”  _ he thought as he climbed the stairs to their chambers. “Aziraphale?”

“Where did you go?” Aziraphale asked dipping a slice of grilled cheese into tomato soup. 

He half expected Aziraphale to whip up a whole spread. This was hardly an enticing dish for the angel. Whatever was bothering him had to be more than he was letting on.

“Minerva paid us a visit. Gave us these.” He showed him the gift.

“That was very kind of her.”

“She says that you are doing a wonderful job professor.” Leaning forward he placed the books down to take Aziraphale’s hand. “That is what you’re worried about isn’t it, that you don’t know if you're cut out for teaching?”

Aziraphale nodded slightly.

“Then worry no more angel.”

***

Desperately he wanted to believe Crowley’s words. He didn’t want to worry about anything but

as the week progressed there were more than a few times he caught Mr. Potter ogling Crowley. Not just a casual glance but proper full length staring especially during mealtime. Like right now, those eyes were so focused on Crowley. This couldn't be some student admiration... Maybe Mr. Potter hated Crowley. That thought made it very difficult to eat the perfectly flakey croissant that he picked at. For both their sakes he had to figure out what was going on.

Slowly Crowley was piecing evidence together. Soon he was sure that he would have enough to convince Aziraphale that Potter and that blond- Malfoy were up to something. It was written all over their faces and he had that itchy feeling that came with bad plans.

_ “There he goes,”  _ he thought, watching Potter leave the Great Hall. 

The scooting of the chair next to him broke his eye contact but before he could ask Aziraphale disappeared from the table.

“Well that's unusual” Slughorn commented. 

“Slughorn-”

“You can call me Horace ol’ chap.”

He rather not. “What is the deal with,” he glanced at his palm where he’d written the blond’s name earlier. “Malfoy?”

“Oh well not polite to say but was a bit of a negative brush around him. Hasn't given me much trouble though.”

“Or you’re too plastered to notice” he muttered smelling the traces of alcohol under the man's disgusting cologne. 

“Any issue, detention does wonders.”

“Mr. Potter” Aziraphale called out, hurrying to catch up with the speeding boy. 

Nothing came good of hurrying like this. He hoped that he wasn't going to pull some mean prank. 

“Mr. Potter.”

The boy ran faster.

Snapping his fingers he miracled himself right in front of the Potter boy.

“Well, now a student shouldn’t run from a professor.”

Potter's eyes were huge. “You can't apparate on school grounds... how?” He searched behind him.

_ “Perhaps I shouldn't do that” _ he mentally noted. “Such a hurried exit, what is the fuss?”

“It's nothing professor. I just wanted to get to class early today.”

Aziraphale pouted, he hadn’t mastered the whole glaring thing- that was more Crowley’s forte. Instead he gave his most disappointing face. “For what reason did you think it wise to run?”

“You said that today we’ll actually do spell work and... I just need time to warm up.”

It didn't feel like a lie then again his truth radar was ever so slightly obscured from being around Crowley so often. Potter did look thoroughly guilty with his averting eyes.

“Professor” Crowley's voice called out.

It looked as though he were the leader in ushering the student down the hall but he knew it was time for the students to head off to class. In the moment he looked in the direction of Crowley causally strutting down the hall he felt a rush of love from besides him. It all clicked into place and that made standing literally between them make his stomach flop uncomfortably. 

Potter didn't hate Crowley; he was in love with him.

“Shall we get our wiggle on?” Crowley teased. 

Mr. Potter smiled.

He could feel he was close to something. By the look on Aziraphale’s face, he too was piecing things together. 

“Crowley, could you run the class today?”

Gently he pulled Aziraphale by the elbow away from Potter.

“Everything alright?” he asked, eyes flicking over to Potter again.

“Yes, just a bit too much pumpkin juice this morning.”

Aziraphale was acting odd. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, have a go at it.”

Stepping to the front of the classroom to teach felt so different than standing with Aziraphale. He had to do the angel proud. 

“Today we will be casting basic blocking spells.” He knew bollocks about the true way they did magic but he knew he had to put on a show with the use of his stick. “Potter come on up.” Murmurs littered the room but he paid them no attention. At last, he was going to see what Potter was made out of.

“Positions.” He smiled at the boy's awkward placement.

“Begin.”

Extending his hand the boy shouted “expelliarmus” which should've disarmed him according to the textbooks but Potter barely even created some sparks out of the tip of his stick. 

Snickering of his students were quietly hushed by Aziraphale. 

_ “I can't be wrong about him,'' _ he thought. “Again Mr. Potter. The old adage fake it til you make it. Magic is about attitude and determination.”

Potter nodded, gripping the stick in his hand before trying again. This time Potter's magic came out stronger allowing him to sting his hand a little. 

“Much better.”

Potter smiled.

Potter smiling at Crowley made the squirm of his stomach dreadful. 

_ “It's fine” _ he tried to assure himself.  _ “School crushes happened and after the glasses thing why wouldn't this happen it's fine.”  _

Potter still was smiling and it still made him uncomfortable. This pure source of love shouldn't make him feel so..so .. icky.

Crowley turned towards him and he could feel those eyes on him settling the ickiness. Crowley always had that effect on him.

Flashing a small smile to show that he was fine he loomed around the classroom trying not to look back at Potter.

There was something about the smell of Potter’s magic that seemed familiar the more he thought about it. It was like recalling the taste of something in your youth but not fully placing it. 

_ “It'll come to me.” _ he thought, raising his stick. “Again,” he instructed but Potter’s magic flickered once more.

It didn't seem as if he were holding back, just not fully in control. That little fact added to the mental list of suspicious evidence against him.

Lowering his stick Crowley looked over to Aziraphale observing the other students having at it. Aziraphale was pouting again. The distraction gave way for Potter's spell to hit this time hard knocking him to the ground as though properly suckered punch. His glasses skidded across the floor. All too quickly he looked up to the boy, his eyes filled with horror before he ran out.

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!” Aziraphale called a second later.

Eyes tightly shut he remained on the floor just a tad longer. He could feel Aziraphale move beside him.

“Here you are my dear,'' Aziraphale whispered, slipping his glasses into place. Seeing horror on the old geezer’s face was far different than Potter's look- one made him laugh while the other left him feeling... ashamed. Ashamed of his mark of being one of the fallen. To everyone aside from Aziraphale, it would always be proof to others that he was evil or less than. 

_ “Like hell am I going back to glamour,”  _ he thought, rising to his feet. “Be that a lesson to never get distracted” he announced to the class just before the bell rang.

“Crowley.”

“I'm going to the office,” he said, rubbing his sore cheek.

Making his way up those steps he couldn’t get the image of Potter’s horrified face out of his head. Gazing in the mirror of their bathroom he could see Potter’s work clearly. Angry red splayed across his face as if he’d been brawling.

“Why was he even aiming for my face?”

Touching his inflamed skin he could feel the magic stronger than the feeble attempts. It tickled his fingers the same as pin needles and held the scent- the one that he smelt when they first arrived. He thought it was Slughorn or the school but...

He needed a little more proof.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked from the doorway of their bathroom. 

He didn't know what Crowley was thinking but he didn't like the way he was touching his reddened cheek with a smile. It wasn't that sort of turn the other cheek forgiveness smile it was something else. Before he could really spiral down wandering if Crowley enjoyed getting hit Crowley had stepped away from the mirror.

“Don't worry I have things under control.”

“Saying things like don't worry only makes me worry more,'' he protested following Crowley as he exited the bathroom to the little desk. “Could you stop so I can at least heal you?”

“No need angel” Crowley continued to rummage through the desk.

“What are you-”

“Our esteemed colleague Slughorn said that one thing a professor should do is issue detentions for wrongdoings.”

“Are you sure?”

From the whole encounter, he thought Crowley wouldn't want to see Potter again. Personally, he didn't want Potter anywhere near Crowley especially alone.

“Signed sealed and soon to be delivered.” Crowley smiled broadly holding up two letters.

“Why two?”

“Because two of our students ran out before dismissal.”

He really didn't know what to make of that gleam in his eyes. 

***

Detention was a bad idea he knew it was going to be. Just them and the two students that held the current records of the amount of times caught gawking at them. To be honest, and one needed to be at least most of the time, he was put off by the ...love he still felt wafting off of Potter. How was it even remotely possible that this infatuation hadn’t disappeared yet eluded him. Although personally he adored Crowley’s golden eyes he expected Potter to be put off by them; that seemed like what happened in class.

“You don't need to be here if you don't want to” Crowley whispered to him.

“I need to be here.”

“Don't trust me to not flay them or something?”

“Nothing like that” he assured, eyes locked on the two students.

“You'll be writing lines’ I must not run out of class’.”

Halfway through their pitiful punishment, Crowley decided to pull up a chair right in front of Potter.

Potter's eyes remained firmly on the page.

“Avoiding looking at me now?” 

It would be a lie to say he wasn't at least slightly disappointed the boy hadn't wet himself in fear he could use a good laugh with Aziraphale seemingly mastering the silent angry pout. 

“Gave me quite the mark,” he pointed to his still red cheek. Healing it would be a cakewalk but guilt tended to get results.

“Professor I am sorry.”

_ “Bingo.” _ he thought. “Wouldn't be so bad if you hadn't run out dragging Malfoy along with you.” He tilted his head in the direction of the blond boy causing Potter to blush.  _ “Ah” _

The burst of love drew his attention much in the same way a flashing sign would. Even thinking that Crowley was encouraging whatever this was... Was it really necessary to talk to Potter so closely? Mr. Malfoy too seemed not pleased, stopping to blatantly stare at the two.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

The young man looked warily up at him.

“Sorry sir” he set to resuming writing lines but Aziraphale stopped him.

“If they can talk so can we,” he said pulling up his own seat. “Why did you step out of class yesterday?”

“I didn't think it would land me in detention.”

“Professor Bristow insisted.”

“He looked really scared didn't he?” Malfoy muttered.

“I didn't see.” 

Malfoy huffed running a hand through his hair in almost the same way Crowley did when he was thinking things over.

“Al’s a bit obsessed over professorBristow” he quietly admitted.

He tried not to frown or fidget with his hands. “Really?”

“You know what his eyes look like, don't you? Slughorn has been talking about you two adventuring together so you must have seen them once.”

“I have seen them on many occasions actually,” he said proudly.

“Is it bad?”

“Just unexpected. I'm sure Mr. Potter just caught off guard. I find them quite lovely.”

Malfoy smiled to himself. “ May I ask what happened to him?”

“An accident. Wrong place wrong time sort of thing nothing to fear.”

Crowley knew two things now that he had a little chat with Potter, one he and the Malfoy kid were an item and two he was definitely involved with their being here.

“..I'm really sorry for causing you so much trouble.”

Guilt spewed from every nook and cranny of Potter’s face. He already admitted to pushing the glasses agenda and now ran the market of muggle pens of all varieties. All of that was small potatoes worth of mischief and if he were actually pushing an interrogation he was certain Potter would spew every secret he ever held. But that didn't fool him there was a glint of something in those brown eyes that he couldn't fully place. And the way that he had been drawn to him had to count for a whole lot. 

The bell rang overhead and he pushed out of the chair he'd been lazily sitting in.

“You're free to go. Do not make it a habit leaving class before dismissal” he said as the two boys scrambled to pick up their things.

  
  


Aziraphale was waiting, for what he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a dismissal about Mr Potter or the sharing of what they were talking about. Did Potter mention anything un-welcomed to Crowley? Did he admit his obsession? Mr. Potter was obsessed with Crowley according to Mr. Malfoy. Obsession was a horrible thing. He needed to warn Crowley he just wanted him to say something first so he wouldn’t say something rude. 

“That Potter-”

“-he's the antichrist” he blurted out. For once a bit proud of his overstep. Anything short of that title wouldn't give a reason for Crowley to be upset.

“I was thinking along those lines as well,” Crowley smiled. “One of our primary roles in our dimension was dealing with the antichrist so it would make sense SHE brought us here for a similar purpose. I found out,” With a snap appeared a few old newspapers splaying the name  _ Harry Potter _ all over. 

“Slughorn said his father was important but turns out he wasn't just a big shot he saved the whole wizarding world.”

“So you think his son is destined to toss the world back into chaos?”

“Happens that way more than enough. May not even know his destiny yet.”

“That makes our jobs easier” he admitted catching up on Crowley’s research. He couldn’t believe the amount of work he’d put in without him noticing.

“So you agree?”

“I admit the boy is a little odd. He doesn't exactly seem to fit as well as the others here and...”

“And?” Crowley lowered his glasses allowing his golden eyes to meet his. “Did Malfoy say anything?”

“Well,”

Crowley scooted closer, taking his hands. “What is it? Went blabbing about my eyes or drawing pentagrams all willy nilly?” 

“He said Mr. Potter is obsessed with you.”

“Is that right?” Crowley teased. “Does he already have posters of me on his walls like some boyband member?”

“You're not taking this seriously.”

“Az-”

“He's obsessed because he's in love with you.”

Crowley threw his head back in wild laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“You are most certainly wrong about that,” Crowley continued to laugh.

“You're not listening to me” he huffed. Trelawny's mixed warnings about losing Crowley played in the back of his head. Why couldn't he just listen to him?

“I know he loves you! An obsession out of love can be highly dangerous!”

Crowley still didn’t stop laughing.“Sorry angel but you're wrong.”

“How would you know? You can't feel love!”

The second those words left his lips it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Crowly slipped away from him.

“I...” He tried to speak but his throat choked on the horrible words he’d said. For a brief moment Crowley stood, glasses obscuring the look in his eyes.

“I'm going for a walk,” Crowley said softly.


	6. What's Love Got To Do With It?

Aziraphale was right but only in principle. Demons were supposed to be wicked things that only felt glee from acts of sin therefore incapable of feeling pure emotions like love. And if Aziraphale said that  _ demons _ couldn't feel love he wouldn’t be walking down to the dungeons with this deep sting in his heart. It was because Aziraphale distinctly said  _ he _ couldn't feel love that was a lie. 

Things like fear and guilt were as tactile for him as the wind blowing through his hair but love was fuzzy. At one point in history, he was an angel capable of nearly everything Aziraphale was now. He could still remember the way it felt to feel love so strongly that it brought him to tears. That was a long time ago before his fall... No longer could he bask in love but it was still there - a dulled sensation like a phantom limb. That didn’t mean it was impossible to interpret acts of love or even feel it himself. Properly focusing on that always ended up feeling taboo. Demons were not allowed to experience love the same, it was part of their punishment.

Seeing the common room empty he decided to slip into his snake form and curl up next to the fires.

Aziraphale picked at his nails only to miracle them back to their original length. It was a horrible habit he picked up a while back and reared its ugly head when he really felt he did something terrible. For hours he'd been at it drawing an apology in his head. Crowley had to know he didn't mean to hurt him but he wanted to respect Crowley’s space so he was stuck here waiting.

Hissing pulled him from his sleep. He had half a mind to spring against the sound before looking at the source of the sound. It was Potter on his knees hissing.

“Hello” Potter hissed, somehow converting it into snake language.

“What?” he hissed back. 

“Oh good. You need to wake up before more people show up.”

If he currently had eyelids he would have blinked in disbelief. This boy was actually talking to him- a snake. That had to prove without a doubt this was the person they were sent for. 

“Al” the Malfoy boy whispered, seemingly debating whether to pull the brunette away or run off. 

“Don't worry. My father taught me how to speak to them.”

“Doesn't mean it won't attack you.”

Malfoy did have a point. He was in a sore mood, but unlike an actual snake, he would be in a considerable amount of trouble if he did strike out against them.

“What if it's poisonous.”

“Scorpius it'll be fine.”

“If Slughorn wasn't missing I would have called him.”

“Much good that would do” Potter muttered.

Malfoy sighed, stepping protectively closer to Potter stick jutted out from him as far as possible. “I don't know what you've been thinking lately.”

Ignoring Malfoy, Potter began to speak to him in snake language again. “Who do you belong to?”

Others would argue that he belonged to hell. If asked this question yesterday he might’ve said Aziraphale.

“No one” he hissed.

Crowley was impressed with the bravery Potter showed as he reached his hand forward. It wasn't as though he were the size of a garden snake. Many people had nearly died of fright at the sight of him and yet here was this boy offering a hand to him.

“Come let's take you somewhere else okay.”

Scenting the air he tried to pick up on any sense of malice but found nothing. It could've been the fact that he didn't want to get accidentally stepped on when other students came into the common room or that he didn't quite want to return to Aziraphale yet that made him slither up Potter's arm. The stick in Malfoy's hand trembled following his movements while Potter remained still as he coined around his arm.

Sometimes Aziraphale would let him hang along his shoulder like a scarf back home.

“Come on Scorpius.”

“I could levitated it.”

“That wouldn't be kind.” 

“Where exactly are we going to put it?”

“Tomorrow we'll take it to the Forbidden Forest.” 

Malfoy still looked unsure but nodded pushing the door to their dorm open. Once there Malfoy pulled his trunk out from under his bed.

“What are you doing?’ Potter asked.

“We need to give it a place overnight. Can’t have it roaming around and your trunk is filled with gifts from your dad” Malfoy pointed out as he rearranged the items in his trunk.

“If you want some you just have to ask” Potter laughed. 

“ I do. First, let's take care of this.”

“You don't mind do you?” Potter hissed. 

Crowley looked into the opened trunk before slinking into it. The trunk wasn't so big even with the rearrangement of books and random things. It was hardly big enough for him but that didn’t matter. Back home he enjoyed tucking up among the bookshelves of Aziraphale’s shop. Just these few books made him miss that book shop madly. It had always felt so warm there; he knew it was due to Aziraphale’s love for the place. 

Constantly Aziraphale gazed at the door to their room. For a fact, he knew Crowley wasn't going to the Great Hall so there was no reason to attend tonight’s dinner. For the first time in a while, he didn't feel like eating. He knew he said something so awful. 

_ “And it's not the first time either,” _ he thought ashamed. 

For an angel, he tended to muck things up so much. Long ago he lost the thought that he was infallible simply due to the white wings strapped to his back still this felt a thousand times worse than stopping himself from running off to Alpha Centauri with Crowely before the world ended. After everything they've been through together, he knew how different Crowley was from other demons and he knew the way he felt just being near him. There was no other person or entity he'd rather be with than Crowley... So until Crowley was ready he needed to wait to beg forgiveness.

**

“Do you want anything to eat?” Potter hissed early the next morning. 

“No” he hissed back.

He didn't even want to leave the trunk as uncomfortable and cold as it was; he just wanted to sleep until he felt confident enough to face Aziraphale. Storming out and hiding away was exactly what he did before. Somehow after the world hadn’t ended he’d hoped he wouldn’t make such mistakes. If he did not show face he could expect lost posters plastered all over Hogwarts. Then he would have to deal with the old coot or maybe the second in command Minerva. 

“Hurry up before the others wake,'' Malfoy whispered, tossing Potter his outer school robes. Slithering up Potter’s offered arm he hitched a ride up from the dungeons towards the edge of what the two called the Forbidden Forest.

“Shit” Malfoy muttered, pulling against Potter's arm. Peering out from Potter’s select he saw Aziraphale coming their way.

“I'll distract him.”

Nodding Potter ran like hell over the early morning lit grass.

“We..are.. Here” Potter huffed falling to his knees. 

Removing himself he landed on the ground. 

“I better go back Scorpius can’t have another detention so soon.”

As Potter ran back Crowley returned to his human form.

“Professor” Malfoy greeted.

“Up early Mr. Malfoy.”

“You are too.”

“I suppose you're right.” He tried to smile through the dread that had been filling him since his harsh words.

“Are you in need of something Mr. Malfoy?”

“Are you sir? You appear to be looking for something.”

“Someone actually.”

“Professor Bristow?”

He could hear Crowley grumble about the name in his head. That felt like years away instead of days. Not being near Crowley made time drag horribly. He needed to get him back.

“Yes.”

“I haven't seen him.”

“I wouldn't expect you to,” he said dejectedly. “If he doesn't want to be found he can hide forever.”

“Professor?”

“You should be on your way,'' he said sulking past the young man.

Debating on attending class ended the way he knew it would have all along. To think that he wouldn’t return would be laughable where else would he go, not that he wanted to be far from Aziraphale forever. Since their first talk on the wall of Eden he knew no matter what he'd forever be pulled towards the angel. However, that didn't mean he was going to arrive on time for class. 

Fashionably tardy he pushed through the doors. All eyes fell to him though the ones he cared the most about had a hint of tears to them.

  
  


_ “He came” _ Aziraphale thought as he instructed on last night's assigned readings. 

Throughout class he watched Crowley for any indication of good or bad. Knotted guilt remained tightly inside of him. If he could he would pause the lesson to apologize.

The more time dragged on the more horrible he felt. They needed to speak to Crowley now.

With a snap behind his back, he miracled the bell to ring.

“I'll see you all in the next class,” he said quickly hoping that the students would just leave while simultaneously not feeling quite ready to deal with the way Crowley still avoided his eye contact across the room.

_ “Be brave Aziraphale, take the first step”  _

Crowley remained in the back of the room casually leaning against the wall with one foot pressed against it. He’d been in this position since he arrived. Never before did he find Crowley so unapproachable. 

_ “What if I say the wrong thing again?” _

“You don't have to look so timid, angel. And you didn't need to miracle the bell to ring.”

“Of course I did! I...” He stopped a few feet away. Just because Crowley was talking to him didn’t mean he was forgiven. “I'm sorry. I feel as though I'm constantly hurting you without meaning to.”

“Better than it being intentional” Crowley joked. “It’s alright angel.”

“No it's not. I don't want you to think for a second that I think you're unfeeling or wrong or...” Not loved he wanted to say but they were stuck in his chest. Any moment he’d burst into tears.

Pushing off the wall Crowley bridged the gap between them. Arms pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry” he whispered into Crowley’s shoulder.

“We have more things to worry about than my feelings.”

“Please don't do that.”

“Do what?”

Pulling away he looked at Crowley’s face. “Changing the subject or telling me what I did is fine. I'm capable of making mistakes as much as anyone. You know that.”

Crowley frowned, his arms letting him go again.

“I hurt you with my words, admit it.”

“Why?” 

“So I will remember to do better about what I say... I know it's been hard for you here.”

“Here?” Crowley scoffed. “Try everywhere. Being here is just another chapter in the ongoing narrative given by my existence. The things the old coot in charge of this place had said, the need to hide aspects of myself, being looked at like some monster, it's not new. I was once an angel too. I know all the things they taught about demons and when I fell it hurt far more knowing what others would perceive me from then on far more than hell's fire.”

Crowley tightened his fist. “You were the first and only one who never chased me away because of what I was but their lessons are still there.” Crowley pointed to his head. “They're mine as well. But what does that matter anyway?” Crowley chuckled. “You see heaven or hell making an entrance here” Crowley motioned to the empty classroom.

“Crowley-”

“Forget It,” Crowley said, running his hand through his hair. “Just forget everything I said. I'm just tired. I’m going to nap.”

“Crowley” he tried again as Crowley ascended the stairs. 

“I'm sorry for all that angel.”

He hadn't meant to say all those things it just flew out of him. Aziraphale wasn’t to blame for how the world viewed him.

_ “Whatever happened to forgiving and moving on?” _ he thought, stopping at the top step. 

“I forgive you, angel. After my nap we'll go to dinner. I'm sure you're starving.”

Without looking back he entered their office space and hurried into the bedroom. Tilting his head to the ceiling he asked “Why are we here?”

Not for the first time he wondered if SHE listened to his questions at all.


	7. Only The Stars Will Hear

Gaslighting was one of those things some humans had picked up from demons centuries ago. Sowing the seeds of doubt to question one's own memory was among the first tricks taught in hell. When it came to dealing with unfavorable things Crowley tended to fall back on such teachings however this wasn't something he could do to Aziraphale. For one Aziraphale had a strong memory- mainly tied to food or books. Far more times than he could count Aziraphale would start off the trips down memory lane recalling the tiniest of details. He too had a decent memory though that was more or less fueled by grudges and little demonic acts that he couldn't share unless Aziraphale was filled to the brim with alcohol. But Aziraphale’s strong memory wasn't the reason Crowley knew he couldn't use any demon tricks against him. It was a simple fact that his heart would never allow him to steep that low. What was said couldn't be taken back so he had to deal with it. Not that it was any new revelation.

_ “Angels vs demons. Angels good, demons bad that is the be all end all” _ he thought, taking extra long to muse with his hair this morning.

Dinner had been amicable last night there were no shouts or flights of any sort. That should've been a comfort but it wasn't. Even during Crowley’s whole speech never once did he raise his voice. Crowley wasn't the sort that would physically attack still he would’ve preferred a fist of cuffs to this uncomfortable forgiveness.

“Are you ready?” Crowley asked as he entered their living area.

“Yes I..”

It hurt not knowing what to say. Even though Crowley said things were fine it still felt like he needed to fight himself. He needed a proper punishment- 

_ “No,”  _ he thought closing his book a tad harsh. That was  _ their _ teachings. Not every mistake needed to be met with punishment.

One step forward two steps back that summed up his entire existence as far as he was concerned. Forgiving Aziraphale was easy when he knew the things he’d said weren’t fully his own words, but in the wake of that, he found himself far closer to square one in their relationship. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the internal debate plaguing Aziraphale as his hand laid near his but never taking hold like they did now and again. He couldn't let another hundred years pass without the comfort of Aziraphale's hand in his and yet this had been an actual argument between them. Something like this couldn’t just be jammed back into a box.

_ “It's too soon,” _ he thought, refusing to take Aziraphale’s hand himself.

Teaching today was like walking barefoot on hot coals and there was no simple snap of finger miracle he could do about it. The ringing of the bell signaled the end of lessons for today but he felt as if he failed to install any wisdom or heal the wound he dealt Crowley. And then there was the issue of Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy or to be more precise the lack of issues. Mr. Potter was suspiciously absent today.

“Mr. Malfoy” he called before the blond could disappear with his classmates. “A word if you please.”

It was clear from the young man's stoned face that he was trying not to show his displeasure of being called on.

“Yes, professor.”

“Is everything alright? You seem rather distracted today in class.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Both distractions and lying will stunt your ability to learn. Does it have to do with Mr. Potter?”

As the young man’s cheeks darkened he felt love emanating from him. 

_ “So Crowley was right about those two,”  _ he thought.

“Al’s in the infirmary again” he muttered. 

“Anything I could do?”

The young man stared at him dumbfounded as if no one had ever offered to assist him before. The thought of that being a possibility left a bad taste in his mouth.

“He’ll be fine. You seem to have your own problems with your husband.”

“M-my what?” he stammered, suddenly struck with the urge to sprout his wings and fly away from this conversation. 

“Bondmate?” the blond suggested.

That term too seemed to set off the beating of his heart.

“I...I”

“I didn't mean to overstep. It's just obvious that you are together. I mean we've never had two professors for a single subject like this before.” The young man continued to nervously run his mouth. “My father says nothing wrong with it-it took purebloods bloody forever to be okay with it you know... I'm lucky to be in this time... and it's nice to see possibilities...I’ll make sure Al gets his homework done and shows up next class.” Malfoy said before running out as fast as possible.

Given space that's what he knew had to be done for now. It was best to leave Aziraphale to do his lesson planning so he left the class along with the students. If he just kept walking eventually he would come up with a way to smooth things over between them.

“Oh, Mr. Potter heard from your father recently?” Crowley overhead Slughorn ask. 

“No.” 

Crowley knew eavesdropping was stupid but what else did he have to do right now? Besides he still needed to determine Potter’s role in their arrival in this dimension.

“Being an Auror is busy work especially for the Chosen One and your siblings must be falling right into his shoes. Isn't your older brother graduating from the academy soon?” 

“Yeah.”

“The Potter family is quite outstanding.” 

“They sure are.” 

“Please pass along this invite to the others.”

Bombarding the young man with a hearty stack of invites Slughorn waddled off. Crowley stood back as he watched Mr. Potter hold his tongue as the invites burst into flames. 

“It's dangerous to play with fire,'' he said, making himself known. 

Mr. Potter shook his hand but the fire increased. 

“I'm not purposefully doing it,” he said, sounding fed up with not only his hand but everything.

“Never fan the flames,” he said, clasping his hands over Potter’s instantly extinguishing it. It was good to know that even magical fire reached the same way as normal or hellfire did to him.

“Thanks,” Mr. Potter said as he removed his hands.

“Skipping out of class?”

“ No, I was in the infirmary. Fucking cauldron exploded in my face again in potion class.” Potter looked sheepishly at him almost expectantly.

“What?” 

“Aren't you going to take points for swearing?”

“Fuck that” he smirked. “A swear here and there never hurt anyone besides I think you earn one after talking with Slughorn.”

“You heard that?”Potter sighed, taking a seat on the stone bench.

He wasn't sure what to make of this kid. If this was the antichrist shouldn't he have been colder or something? Strongly he believed this kid had to do with them arriving here.

“I've gotten that sort of talk for every day I've been at Hogwarts. I’m a complete failure.”

“How so?”

“You want a detailed list of just the basics of not living up for my namesake. All three are piled on like some fucking pedestal I’ll never be able to reach. Potter the Chosen One, Severus the name of a double spy who helped end the war, and Albus longest headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“You share a name with the old coot? I'm terribly sorry.”

Potter chuckled before looking down at his hands. “Everyone thought they were dead. My father wanted to honor them. Now it's like I have to live up to my name in any way I can but I'm not nearly as brave or cunning... I could never fight a war like they did. And my magic is useless.”

“You've shown potential in my class.”

Albus huffed.“Sure.”

“They say failure is the best teacher so that must mean I’m the greatest, failed millions of times.”

“Really?”

“Perhaps more. Aziraphale would say that it's better to pick up and try again then hide from failure...but I get it. The feeling of failure sometimes seems so overwhelming that one mess up would cost the world.”

Potter seemed to think his words over. “It just seems like I'm always making a mess of things.”

“Would you do anything to fix that?”

There was something in the way Potter pretended not to hear the question that concerned him. 

“I must get going.” Potter rushed to his feet only to pause for a moment. “Thank you,” he said before wandering off.

Three words had occupied his mind for the better half of an hour  _ husband  _ and _ bond mates _ . Crowley and him had been together for some time but he'd never thought that's how others would see them in this dimension. Though he supposed he should've had some inkling when Anathema would tease him about inviting Crowley over back home. 

Not being able to stand waiting in the empty classroom with his swirling thoughts he rushed to the library. Clinging the books he picked out to his chest as if they were something dirty he founded an available table. 

_ “If they see us that way I should research it” _ he told himself as he tentatively opened the book on magical bonding. Each page he flipped with careful peeking to see if there were any unsavory imagery before continuing to read the text. All these precautions were unnecessary still he could feel his cheeks grow hot from reading about doing something so intimate as interlinking magic with another. 

Crowley returned to find the classroom and their chambers to be empty.

“No sense in sending out a search party” he muttered to himself as he sprawled across the loveseat. 

When Aziraphale was comfortable around him again they would talk. For now he had a lot to think about.

In so many ways Potter was prime to be a catalyst for horrible events. He’d seen the way neglected children burdened by expectations turned out, however, Potter didn't seem like the ‘destroy the whole world because the world rejects me’ sort of person. Or maybe he gave the young man too much credit. 

“Winky.” With a pop, the house-elf arrived. It was nice not having to miracle himself every little thing.

“Yes sir?” 

“I would like the proper equipment for a presentation.” 

“Yes sir.”

The grumbling of his stomach coupled with the inability to read another story about bond mates made Aziraphale leave the library for the day. He'd fallen right down the rabbit hole reading accounts from earliest arranged bond ceremonies to more current and elaborate ways to ask to be bonded to someone. And it wasn't just magic, many bonds linked two in mind, body, and soul. This naturally led to him learning that there were also familial bonds that could link two families together or be used so magically to adopt a child. 

Even as he walked the halls he smiled thinking about that. 

They hadn't done such a horrible job with Warlock. Maybe...

He needed to stop that train thought. In no fashion were they in the right state for such a discussion.

_ “I still have to fix things with Crowley,”  _ he thought, bounding the stairs to their shared living space.

“Crowley -” he paused, staring at Crowley plotting. There was no other word to describe the mess of papers floating around him as a contraption like an old movie reel clicked in the background. 

“Just adding a few finishing touches,” Crowley said, somehow bending the paper without touching to move cells of the reel.

“What's all this?”

“Visual thinking,” Crowley said motioning for him to take a seat which he did.

“ I spoke with Mr. Potter again today.” Crowley clicked on something projecting an image of Mr. Potter.

He did his best not to frown. Already he didn't like the idea of Potter being obsessed with Crowley the opposite made him even more frustrated. 

“I have confirmation on a few things, one he’s got a ton of things to live up to.”

The image changed to a family he assumed was Potters as the young man stood tucked in the back of the photo. 

“Comes from a family not only with a chosen one but every other sibling has been in Gryffindor house and done remarkably well.”

“So he's the black sheep of the family.”

“ 2. Poor thing is cursed to share a name with the old coot in charge of this place.”

An image of Dumbledore drawn over with missing teeth and an eyepatch in marker was projected on the wall. 

“3. His magic capacity appears lower than others. He was injured during another class”

He understood this valid point. Many humans made deals with demons for much less than wanting to be competent in magic back home.

“4. I recognize his magic on the day we arrived so he is tied to the portal we only have to find out how and why. My money's on Malfoy.”

Hearing that brought up their earlier conversation.

Aziraphale's sudden second glances made him pause his presentation. Perhaps it was too early to jump back into figuring out their purpose here. They needed to do this if they wanted to get back home. He didn't think the old coot would provide answers or solutions, even so, he knew he was throwing everything at this issue now in order to avoid the awkwardness between them.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, dear feeling peckish.”

“I suppose the other points could wait.”

To be fair they were half thought out ways to evoke Potter’s latent powers and much more skeptical evidence.

“I'll call Winky so you may continue.” 

On he talked with Aziraphale nodding between bites of his dinner. The moment of them sharing a tart felt so long ago. One step forward two steps back. For now he needed to focus more on their purpose here than his own feelings towards Aziraphale.

Even with Crowley putting his all into these plans he could only truly focus on the distance remaining between them. Truthfully he’d give anything for Crowley to sit pressed up against him like they used to.

“Aziraphale?”

“Tickety boo.”

“You haven't heard a word I said did you?”

“I did get lost somewhere around the end.”

“What has you so occupied?”

“ I...”

He resisted the urge to pick at his nails.

“Would you care to come with me?'' he asked, rising from the love seat.

“Where would you want to go at a time like this?” Crowley asked, checking his watch.

“So you won’t come?”  _ “Perhaps it’s too soon to ask him things. I should be grateful that we are even talking.” _

“I never said that.”

The invitation was an olive branch. He knew Aziraphale enough to know that the angel wouldn't be comfortable until there was no doubt that he had been forgiven. At this point in time Crowley knew there was far little that he wouldn't forgive Aziraphale for.

“Aren't you concerned about upsetting the headmaster?” he said as they snuck out into the night.

“Professors are allowed to patrol the castle for the wayward student.”

“But that's not exactly what we're doing is it?” he smirked.

“Hush you wily serpent.”

“I've made quite the impression on you haven't I” he whispered against Aziraphale’s ear.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelped. “I’ll lose my nerve if you continue to tease me.”

That was something he definitely didn't want.

Climbing the steps up towards the astronomy tower he could feel his heart struggling to remain calm. 

“Where exactly are you leading me, angel?”

“Almost there,” he said hoping that the overcast would lighten up by the time they made it to the top. 

Seeing that the clouds were starting to move away he turned to Crowley a few steps below him. 

“I want you to close your eyes.”

“Really angel?”

“Yes. You won't fall I promise” he said holding out his hand. When Crowley laid his hand in his he realized just how much he missed it. Smiling to himself he led Crowley up the last few steps only stopping right at the stretched balcony.

“Can I look now?”

“Ummm...” He looked to the sky begging it to hurry up and clear already. “Almost.”

Feeling rather brazen he slowly removed Crowley’s glasses.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley grabbed his hand.

“There's no one around my dear.”

Hesitantly Crowley lowered his hand allowing him to remove his glasses completely. Being so close to Crowley always made his palms sweat just a bit. He couldn't help take in Crowley’s features from this close up. Those thin lips parted just enough to sigh seemed far too captivating. He supposed it was the research on his mind that preoccupied him from providing appropriate space between them or he could blame the moonlight that bounced off the telescope and shaded Crowley’s face in a way that sharpened his cheekbones.

Crowley didn't dare open his eyes; he knew Aziraphale was staring at him but couldn't fathom why. Air all but choked in his chest when Aziraphale finally pulled away whispering “you can look now.”

Aziraphale stood out against the backdrop of stars with a warm smile. His feet moved before he could think, making him lean against the balcony’s bars to better take in the view. And with a hand outstretched he found the belt of stars he’d helped create. One of the acts of being an angel he’d loved was shaping the heavens for humans to gaze at. Tears fell from his face freely as he admired his work that still managed to exist even in this universe. Without thought or worry of the consequences his black wings stretched out from his shoulder blades and with one push he was soaring up to meet with his creation.

Crowley truly looked at home among the stars his silhouette carved against the full moon. He never asked about Crowley’s fall but during a drunken rant, Crowley did tell him he helped create stars. Stars that would remain for all eternity across all worlds because he believed that they would.

Stretching he too shook his wings free careful to not startle Crowley as he rose to his height. Only once had he seen Crowley’s black wings, back towards the almost end of the world, back home. Those wings looked so strong with each flap. Crowley was beautiful, almost angelic which Crowley would not too kindly take as a compliment.

If he'd been the one to fall he was sure he wouldn’t have kept as much of his angelic nature as Crowley did. There was no other demon that would weep at the stars. 

“Crowley” he whispered. Careful to not let their wings tangle as he took his hand. Golden eyes filled with tears looked to him.

“Sorry angel. I should get a hold of myself shouldn't I? Can’t have people hearing me.”

“Don't worry my dear only the stars will hear.”


	8. Wizard Cops

The sweet sound of humming woke him the next day. What he would give to lay here enveloped in that sweet sound but he knew that couldn't be the case, at least not today. All the crying last night felt so childish but Aziraphale never chastised him for it. If hell had seen him blubbering he would’ve been sent to ‘toughening up’ training. True demons didn’t cry. Nor star gazed, or still had wings to fly, or...

“Crowley if your up-”

“I'm not,'' he groaned, rolling on the bed. His shoulder blades ached with the dulled pain from not using his wings in a while. Not much sense to fly back home when he could speed in his Bentley wreaking havoc.

“Now Crowley” Aziraphale sighed, popping his head into the bedroom.

“Why don't you join me?” he asked, patting the available space on the mattress.

“I...” Aziraphale’s face instantly turned bright red. “Perhaps another time.”

Smiling, he made a mental note to keep Aziraphale’s promise. “Fine, I suppose we have young minds to shape with our teaching.”

“That and...” Aziraphale waved a letter in his hand. 

“Do I want to know?”

“It should be a good thing.”

“Should?”

Aziraphale knew approaching this first thing in the morning might upset Crowley but he had to let him know. At least it was a letter this time instead of Dumbledore popping in unannounced. 

“Well, Dumbledore is bringing some people over to look into how we got here.”

With a deep sigh, Crowley slithered out of bed. 

Placing his hand on his shoulder Crowley said “We’ll worry about that later.”

Later always felt so intangible. For them dealing with things later could mean years or decades. They didn’t have that luxury with this specific thing but he still held worries about the way things were between them. As much as he wanted it to, he doubted that one night freed among the stars would erase the hurt he’d caused Crowley. 

“I know,” he said before he lost nerve before Crowley could ready for the day. “I know it won’t solve everything but I promise to do better. ”

“You’re still worried about that angel?” Crowley asked softly. 

“I never want to hurt you like that again.”

Crowley’s hand carded through his hair. “You can’t right all the wrongs of the world even if you are an angel. Besides, it’s partially my fault. I am a demon after all.”

“Not to me...you’re just Crowley.”

He wished that was true. On some level Aziraphale might’ve believed that but the reality was there were things about his life that the angel couldn’t completely understand. Always he tried to show the better parts of himself, the more carefree and cool sides. Being a demon wasn’t always a cakewalk. As an angel, Aziraphale didn’t have to bear certain burdens that he did. He knew from experience that being an angel was not all that easy either with the looming threat of falling hanging over every little move you made. Aziraphale didn’t know what it was like to fall or feel so at war with yourself and the world around cursing your very existence. But he didn’t need Aziraphale to walk a mile in his shoes. And he would rather drink Holy water than see Aziraphale fall. 

Cupping Aziraphale’s face he stared into those blue eyes. “I know you’re not infallible. We’ve both been on Earth so long that we’re bound to make mistakes. But whatever mistake you make I’ll forgive you over and over.”

Aziraphale’s hands lifted to rest on top of his. “Y-you mean that?”

“Yes.”

  
  


***

Crowley never knew why time moved so quickly when you didn't want it to and so painfully slow when you wanted it to go quicker. Humans might say it was due to demonic mischief, but it felt more like one of the Almighty’s jokes. She had a wicked sense of humor.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale nudged his elbow.

He'd been staring as the headmaster still waiting for these “professional portal hunters” or whatever to show up for who knew how long. The only reason he had stuck around was because he promised Aziraphale to be on his best behavior. 

“They'll arrive any moment” the old coot repeated for the fifth time. 

In certain circumstances patience wasn't his best virtue. If they didn’t show up he would have to leave a little parting gift in this office. Right now he was debating between a family of rats or the classic tack on a chair. 

Without warning the fireplace sparked green flames and four people stepped out in pairs. The first three dressed in similar robes while the other was covered head to toe in black. 

“So glad you could make it,'' the coot smiled.

“I would prefer if you didn't waste our time with nonsense,” the man in all black said.

There was something about this man that he liked. Perhaps it had to do with the scowl he was giving the old man.

“No nonsense this time.” Crowley caught the man in black rolling his eyes. “Allow me to introduce you to our guests, an angel and a demon.”

The man in black narrowed his eyes in assessment before scowling even more.

“What Severus means to say,” a man wearing round thick glasses stepped forward. “ It is nice to meet you, right?”

Severus rolled his eyes once again.

“I’m Harry Potter head Auror. This is Millicent and Janie; they specialize in magic abnormalities.”

“Well you're gonna have your work cut out for you,” he said. 

“I think we could manage.”

“You didn't even flinch at knowing what we are.”

Harry blinked at him. “You're serious..? I thought it was a joke... But you are a”

“Angel,” he pointed to Aziraphale then himself. “ demon try to keep up.”

“W-well” Harry looked to Severus who looked completely unphased. The other two were already starting to jot down notes.

“I don't think you are at all prepared for this.”

“Crowley you are being rather rude” Aziraphale scolded. 

He shrugged. “Being practical.”

“We are all magically strong” Harry insisted.

“We don’t doubt that” Aziraphale interjected.

“This is Harry Potter The Chosen One!” Jamie chimed in.

That didn't seem to sit right with anyone in this room. Even Severus was glaring at her. Personally, he didn't like being in the same room as any prophesied chosen ones especially when he was considering this man’s son the prime instigator of this whole mess.

“Excuse us,” Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley slightly away. He was very grateful to have him during this awkward pause. “Why don't we just give them a shot? Don’t you want to go home?”

“I don't want them to get your hopes up.”

“They won't.”

“What if they are complete idiots?”

“If they can’t help us then we’ll figure something out. But we won’t know until we give them a fair chance.”

“Fine.”

Neutrality had returned to the room. Aziraphale was sure that somehow they would get home.

“We should first examine their arrival point,” Millicent suggested.

“Would that be helpful? We've been here for a few days” Aziraphale said.

“Magical signatures can last a while. We've developed devices to tell us the age of it left behind.” Janie explained.

“Depending on the power we could narrow down possible factors,” Millicent added.

“I will not partake in this,” Severus said, eyeing Dumbledore. 

Based on the way those two interacted Aziraphale was sure that there was quite a lot of history between them. 

“Come on,” Harry complained.

“I was dragged here and so I might as well check in on Pomfrey but that will be it.”

Despite his glum face, Aziraphale could feel the love deep within the man for this place. Severus seemed so complicated- maybe that's why Crowley was looking at him with more respect than he did with the headmaster. 

“Don't mind him, he's just upset that our vacation ended early” Harry teased.

“Getting chased by a large lizard creature is the furthest thing from a vacation.” 

Harry shrugged.“We survived,” 

“And you'll survive carrying on this task without my assistance.” 

“Git.” 

“Brat,” Severus muttered back before stepping into green flames.

“Shall we get going too?” Harry smiled, not at all bothered by Severus's disappearance.

“Are you sure it's alright?”

He wanted every possible help they could get.

“No worries I'll fill him in on everything later.”

For a chosen one Harry appeared to be still so filled with love and light. That wasn't exactly uncommon but more times than he cared for he saw the way being chosen plagued humans. And this added more weight to Crowley's assessment that younger Potter could be this world’s antichrist if only because the pendulum on these things tended to swing in both directions rather hard.

Crowley stood back watching the three wizard cops move about the field. As much as he wanted to blow this excursion off he didn't feel too comfortable leaving Aziraphale alone with them Not that Aziraphale couldn't take care of himself in a fight. Watching over them was added insurance that nothing horrible would happen without his knowledge. 

A high pitch beep stabbed his ears. 

“Over here” Millicent called, her crazed handheld machine pointed at the ground. “The headmaster wasn't kidding it was a portal.”

He didn’t like that there was so much shock in her voice. It was telling that not even wizard cops believed the old fool.

“You sure?” Jamie asked.

“Check the reading!”

He could roll his eyes at the discovery being nothing they didn't know but it wouldn't be seen behind his sunglasses. 

“We fell around here if I'm not mistaken,” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“I can tell that it wasn't any common form of our magic. Apparently leaves a lighter trace but this is a genuine portal.” 

“And?” he butted in. 

“It's almost unheard of to create one that links other dimensions. A person's magic has to be both concentrated and unstable.”

“Do you propose it was professor Slughorn? He was there when he fell.” Aziraphale informed.

“No offense but professor Slughorn wouldn't have this capability. The magic is more like that of a new wizard, one who hadn't gotten the hang of their magic yet.”

He could tell that Aziraphale wanted to say something about their thoughts on the matter so he shook his head.

“What's your world like?''Millicent asked, holding out a notepad.

“ Very normal, hardly any witches around but there is one...” Aziraphale recounted as they continued to walk about the open space.

“So ...you're a professor here?” Harry asked. 

There was something to be said of humans and how they acted so much like one another. His son was almost a perfect copy just minus glasses and those green eyes.

“Against our will, so to speak.”

He smirked. This kid wasn't so bad. He could tell he was a lot more down to Earth than expected. With a title of a Chosen One in a magical society he expected the man to roam about like the Queen of England. 

“Dumbledore does seem to have that tendency. Let me guess Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a cursed position.”

“Use to be.” Harry glanced back at the other wizard cops.

“You don't have to use small talk with me. I'm a demon after all you know walking temptation towards sin and all that. Or maybe you don’t understand all that.” 

“I understand you’re telling me that you’re some evil thing.”

“And yet you’re talking to me. Do you have a screw loose or something?”

Harry laughed. “Some might say I'm naive but I've learned to look for the good in people. I mean for the longest time I thought Severus was trying to kill me.” 

“And he wasn’t?”

“Nope. In first year my friend even tried to set him on fire because we all thought he was out to get me. Turns out that he was always trying to save me.” 

“Must’ve been a pain getting set on fire for helping people out.”

“You have no idea how much he points that out” Harry smiled.

“Dad?” Young Potter asked, gaping at them.

Harry’s smile turned slightly forced. “Hey Al.”

“Why are you here?” Young Potter looked as though he were about to get ambushed.

“For work.”

“Oh..see you later then.”

“Wait,I could finish up early and we could get dinner in the Great Hall.”

“No it's alright” young Potter said hurrying away.

Sighing, Harry looked defeated at the ground.

“Shouldn’t you take care of that?” he asked. 

“He’ll visit Scorpius or Severus. I'm just so lost with him... I thought it was the divorce but... Do you have any kids?”

“Demons aren't allowed to have kids.”

“Oh.” Harry bit at his bottom lip. “Sorry, that was stupid of me to ask.”

Crowley didn’t say a word weighing the pros and cons of what he should do. It wasn’t as if Harry was begging for the advice of a demon on parenting but he could tell from those guilty green eyes that this man had been struggling for a while. Children were complex creatures, delicate things that if set in the wrong way would grow up with all sorts of ideas about themselves or the world. Sometimes those things could be mended over time and other times it festered inside their heads.

“I'm sure you don't want to hear it from me,”

“I do. Please, you are his professor.” 

“He's a bit of an outcast here.”

“Really?” Harry said biting his lip even more. 

“I've only ever seen him with Malfoy not that it’s bad to only have one friend,” he said feeling a bit awkward for bringing things up. “The real issue is he seems to have no faith in his magic.”

“Why wouldn't he tell me that? Whenever I ask about school he says it’s fine.”

“He feels like he's under your shadow.”

“None of my other kids-”

“He's different from your other kids or at least that’s what he believes. According to him he feels he needs to end a war to even measure up to his namesakes.”

“He told you all this?” 

He nodded. 

Slinking to the floor Harry cradled his head. “I'm the worst father.”

“I've met much worse” he chuckled but Harry continued to look as though he’d been repeatedly kicked. “ Look, humans are mixed-up creatures. You have this tendency to idolize heroes to untouchable standards. Can you imagine what it is like to have a hero as a parent? Imagine each step scrutinized and held up against a hero’s actions.”

“I didn’t know he felt that way...I never wanted him to feel like that.”

“Tell that to your son. Let him know that you are capable of mistakes I can even name one right off the top of my head naming him after the old coot headmaster.”

“Severus was mad about that too,” Harry laughed. 

Holding out his hand he said, “Go find him.”

“Thank you,” Harry said rising to his feet again. “ Could you tell the others I'm going to talk to my son?”

He nodded.

“...And then the four horse men of the apocalypse arrived which really is just a name, they're not all men...” Aziraphale paused noticing Crowley coming back without Harry.

“Said he needed to talk to his kid” Crowley informed.

There was lightness around Crowley, one that told him he'd done a good deed. Smiling he fell into step with Crowley completely forgetting to finish his story.

  
  


***

A week flew by without any incidents. Everything fell into routine even the spikes of jealousy he felt when he caught someone staring at Crowley too intently. Each passing day he waited for news but when an owl presented itself with a letter outstretched in its tallon he was disappointed. 

_ Dear Mr Crowley and Mr Aziraphale, _

_ Assessing the origins of the magic could take a few more days.  _

_ Thank you for your patience. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Magical Disturbance Assessment Team _

“Bad news?” Crowley asked looking up from grading papers.

“No news,” he said, laying the letter to the side.

If all this was the Almighty’s doing then there really was little chance they could alter things. They would be returned home once they finished the task they were sent here for. It was just a matter of figuring what they were supposed to do. 

Even though he told Aziraphale not to count on Harry and his wizard cops he too had to admit that he did feel slightly disappointed. A part of him hoped letting father and son talk things out that something would come out of it maybe not a shower of confetti spelling congrats on preventing armageddon 2.0 but at least a way back home. This world was interesting but surely Aziraphale wanted to return to his bookshop. They’d been on that version of Earth for over 6,000 years. 

How to feel about not going home still was confusing. On one hand, he really wanted to get back and finish that adventure novel he’d been in the middle of before a portal popped into his home. He was sure Anathema was looking after the shop and the various plantlife Crowley owned. On the other hand, he didn't want to deal with living under heaven or hell’s microscope as they had been. 

Aziraphale knew he was slow to change but he'd come to really love it here and well... He still had Crowley. If he’d been tossed here alone there was no way he would’ve managed the sudden shift of everything.

  
  


“I guess I failed angel,” he said once the stacks of papers had finished grading and there was nothing left to keep his thoughts contained.

“What do you mean my dear?”

“I thought Potter was the ticket to returning home but I'm having doubts.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better because you don't need to do that.”

“I’m not just saying that” he protested as Aziraphale picked up the book he’d been reading all week.

“We’ll figure things out so buck up” Aziraphale smiled.

“What about that?” he asked, motioning to the book. “You think magical bonding is the answer?”

“N-no this is just for fun.”

“Why so flustered?” he teased. “Is it a naughty book? Is that why you’re reading it so slowly?”

“You know I never -” 

He lowered his glasses down the bridge of his nose so Aziraphale could know in no uncertain terms the face he was making.

Aziraphale was a horrible liar. If he were any worse, Aziraphale would have  _ liar _ written on his forehead.

“That only happened once because you put that book there.” 

He smirked knowing what book Aziraphale was referring to. “It was a bestseller in America.”

“I’ll never know why it was filled with odd phrases and even _ those  _ parts in the book were not entertaining.”

Crowley laughed. “And yet you read it all.”

“And you allowed it to become a movie series.” 

“One of my finest work.” 

Aziraphale crossed his arms with a huff.

“Come on angel, they were bad movies. Really bad.” 

“Magical bonding was just something I was interested in reading. I'm hungry” Aziraphale laid the book on the coffee table.

“Should we get to the Great Hall?”

“Alright.”

It had been a while since he had dined on the head table of the Great Hall. He preferred asking Winky to pop in food at least that way he wouldn't have to deal with their coworkers.

“Bristow ol boy!” Slughorn greeted cheerily. “I was able to snatch up an audience with Harry Potter because of you.”

“What did I do exactly?”

“I saw you talking with him the other day and I was able to get him to agree to come to my Slug Club this weekend. Will you and professor Redden join?”

“Ummm...”

Aziraphale busied his hands rearranging the peas to balance perfectly on his fork. This portal business wasn't getting them anywhere or their antichrist theories. 

_ “There has to be another way” _ he thought, watching the pea roll around the tip of his fork.

“Professor Redden.” Crowley’s foot nudged his. 

“What do you say?” Slughorn asked with an expectant look.

“Yes?”

“ Splendid I have the staff room booked for Saturday at six see you then.”

Slughorn took a roll and left while he was paying more attention to the way Crowley was gritting his teeth. It was probably a way to prevent himself from swearing but he couldn't help stare until he was able to get a grip on himself.

“What exactly did I agree to?”

“Slug’s dinner party.”

“Sorry dear.”

“It's fine,” Crowley sighed. “It could be fun.”

Now Crowley was smiling in that way that made him feel just the tiniest of guilt that he wouldn't stop him from causing mischief when the time came.

A perfect plan for how to make their upcoming dinner party more enjoyable was slowly formulating. With the no news from wizard cops and not even a hint of young Potter and Malfoy gearing up to end the world Crowley felt that this party could be a good distraction. But maybe it was too good of a distraction for Aziraphale. More and more he caught the angel staring off into space or looking at him before snapping out and returning to reading on magical bonding. All of this would’ve been fine if Aziraphale didn’t also lose track during class causing all the students to look at him as if he had any idea what was going on.

“What's going on in that big brain of yours?” Crowley asked at the end of the day. 

“I'm not sure what you mean.”

“You've been awfully distracted lately.”

“I have not.”

“You stood at the front of the class like a statue for nearly five minutes today.”

“My mind is just elsewhere I suppose.”

“Are you still worried about home?” 

Home was always on his mind but that wasn’t the thing that stuck to the forefront of his thoughts right now.

“I'm sure the bookshop is still one piece and I put so much fear into my plans that they wouldn't dare wilt on me.” 

“I was a little concerned... We've been here a month.”

“A month?” Crowley double-checked counting the days on his fingers. “Fuck.”

At the end of every month he had to do a report on his misdeeds to hell. If he were still sending reports it would be considered a rather slow month- not that he hadn't gone without exaggerating his work before. 

“A whole month.”

Now he was really wondering if his plants would manage on their own. Maybe they would make an escape; he could picture his prized house plants sneaking out of his apartment Mission Impossible-style.

“Do you think we'll ever return home?” Aziraphale asked in a voice so neutral he couldn't tell if he was close to losing hope or not.

Taking his hand he searched for something in Aziraphale's face. If he didn't always scare Aziraphale off by moving too fast he would've kissed him on the cheek or pull him into a hug.

“We've been around for 6,000 years a month isn't remotely close to an eternity.”

“You’re right.”


	9. Slughorn's Party

“Are you all prepared?” Aziraphale asked as he looked into the full-length mirror still undecided in the color of his robes. With a wave of his hand, he shifted them between light brown and lavender.

“You're putting too much thought into this dinner party angel,” Crowley said, head hanging off the end of the bed.

“We need to look out best. What if I'm not in the right attire and they take offense or what if there's nothing good to eat?” 

Crowley smiled, not remotely bothered by anything. Sometimes he wanted to be more carefree.

“You look wonderful in any outfit and I'll call Winky to sneak something in if we have to.”

“Well... what about the other guests? You said Slughorn dined with popular powerful people.”

He always felt like a sore thumb in the crowds of the archangels back in heaven. Gabriel had always made him feel so small in compassion in every way except weight which he pointed out quite a bit. 

“It's just people.”

It was easy for Crowley to say that he imagined Crowley always found a way to become the life of the party or as he would say “not give a fuck” who was around. 

“Stop panicking.”

“I'm not.” He looked over his lavender robes once more. Hearing the creak of the bed he watched Crowley tumble off the bed. Within seconds Crowley was behind him, his hands stopping him from continuing to pick at his nails.

“I'll make sure everything is fine,”Crowley whispered his hot breath tickling his ear. In the mirror their eyes connected. There was a sweetness in those golden eyes tonight. 

“Lavender brings out your eyes more, go with those.”

“I... thank you.”

Was he nervous to be surrounded by possibly the poshest people in the wizarding world? Of course he was but he would never admit it. He was known as a flash bastard in hell introducing new things to spice up partying- hell never needed to know most of his inventions came from the humans themselves. Demons did love alcohol and so being a steady provider of the stuff made him somewhat popular down below. Deeply he hoped that there would be alcohol present. Aziraphale too could use a drink based on the growing nervousness. No matter how many times he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand all he would get was a small smile. In lavender robes Aziraphale looked beautiful way more so than anyone else when they arrived. 

“Ah welcome, welcome!” Slughorn announced rising from the head of the table. 

The whole staff room looked different than usual. Magically enlarged with flowers decorated throughout making it seem more like a garden with the topiaries lived along the sides. If these people didn't have magic it would have taken days for such a renovation. 

“Everyone, this is Professor Redden and Bristow!”

Twenty pairs of eyes fell to them some appeared those dripping with money, their robes giving odd a shimmer and their noses stuck into the air, some looked more rugged sportsmanlike and then there were the students each showing their nervousness in either sitting uncomfortably straight or fiddling with the utensils.

“Harry is here” Aziraphale whispered.

He saw him sitting as though even breathing would bring attention to him. The man was the oddest Chosen One he'd interacted with and there had been a handful of truly chosen ones who just said they were- each coming with their own special brand of annoyance. 

Leading Aziraphale to the available seats near the head of the table he understood there was method to the placement. Men like Slughorn had existed for centuries collecting favor among the rich and mighty. Further down the table he spotted young Malfoy holding his back stiff like the others further up the table. The only reason they were so close to the top was simple, novelty. They were new exciting things for Slughorn to introduce. This was a judgment more than a get-together. 

_ “I suppose we should put on a show then,”  _ he thought.

Mischief was in the air and he had to stop himself from lightly smacking Crowley. They both needed to behave.

“Do tell us more about your work. You mentioned you did vast traveling” Slughorn said rather loudly.

“Why yes all over here and there but we do prefer this side of the pond,” he said feeling good about his simple answer.

“Nearly didn't make it in one piece” Crowley commented with a grin.

“Do tell.” 

Several members of the table were leaning in close.

“Remember the pirates?” 

He certainly did not but he understood he needed to play along.

“Oh yes dreadful.”

“Poor Redden here was kidnapped; thought he was worth leaps of gold would've paid if I had the coin.”

“Kidnapped?” Slughorn looked to him.

He nodded. “They wouldn't listen to reason those scurvy pirates.”

“Why didn't you confund them?”

“I was without my wand and no idea how far out to sea I was.”

“I had no choice but to sneak upon their ship as one of them. Sun beating down, I struggled to find a way to free Redden and escape. Days passed with us being able to only make contact through messages written on potato peels.”

“Potato peels?” One of the guests said falling more captive to Crowley’s story.

“It was the only way. Soon the captain suspected a mutiny in the works. All the crew was lined up. The captain's books clicked as he walked the line watching for a sliver of weakness or disloyalty.”

“I was so frightened tied up to the mass watching as the captain stopped in front of Cr-Mr Bristow.” 

Crowley smirked rising to his feet. “ ‘One of you has betrayed me,' the captain said, brandishing his pistol. Then he walked the long once more preparing his weapon. One shot point-blank and it would be all over.” Crowley said walking up and down the length of the table. Suddenly Crowley stopped lifting his pointer finger up in the air then lowering it to his face. “I was staring down the barrel of his pistol.” 

“Then?” Slughorn asked.

“Bam!” Crowley slammed his hands onto the table. “I snatched the sword from the man next to me” he picked up his fork with a triumphant pose. “knocking the gun away just before it went off. Quick as lightning I forced the captain to the ground cut Redden free,” Crowley pulled him from his seat. 

“The crew was ready to skin us alive. There was nothing left but to jump. Into the cold water we went. We swam for a bit until washing up on an island. Luckily there was plenty to drink.”

Crowley smiled returning him to his seat. Aziraphale couldn't help applaud Crowley’s performance like the others.

“Truly amazing you must have a thousand tales” Slughorn rooted.

“That we do.”

Far too easily the guests got caught up in their wild tails. Here and there Crowley would ask him “what was that guy's name” or “the name of that place” to include him in these fantastical stories of their so-called travels. Some were too outlandish but others he wished they had gone through together like having to compete in a muggle talent show to gain crucial information from another contestant. He really helped flush out the details of that story- Crowley being his magical assistant resulting in them getting disqualified for Crowley’s dark humor when it came to being sawed in half.

Many of the guests couldn't stomach eating when so engrossed in their tales he wondered if that was Crowley’s intention or he just liked telling stories.

The bells chimed just as he wrapped up another story.

“Oh my look at the time,” Slughorn said. “It’s time to bid adieu.”

_ “good,” _ he thought, feeling as if his tongue would leap out of his mouth if he had to come up with another story. 

This exhaustion was worth it since it allowed less time listening to Slughorn jabber on and took the pressure off anyone who must've been thoroughly bored or bothered otherwise. 

Taking Aziraphale’s hand he helped him to his feet. Aziraphale had a glow to his face- the sort that came when the angel ate wonderful food or just smiled too much. This dumb dinner was almost a certain invite to do it all over again another time. Already he was thinking of wilder stories or doing something frightful like juggling knives, or bring along a wild beast or-

“May I have a word with you?” Harry asked.

“Anything wrong?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Well, sort of, I mean it's not the best news.”

“Just out with it already.”

“We have yet to determine the specific cause of the portal.”

“We did receive the letter” he rolled his eyes. “Aren't your people supposed to be the best?”

“It's still a new field. Interdimensional travel is intense stuff.”

“Next time-”

“It's quite alright Harry.”Aziraphale jumped in. “It’s late. Good night.” Aziraphale said before walking away.

“I..”

“Come on Crowley.”

There were a few more things he wanted to ask Harry about but he wanted to join Aziraphale even more. “Good night.”

Running to catch up he fell into step with Aziraphale. Instantly Aziraphale hand took a hold of his.

“I had a wonderful night thanks to you” Aziraphale smiled brightly.

Every bit of body heat flooded to his face. “Was nothing angel.”

“I must respectfully disagree. Coming up with those stories was highly impressive.”

“I'm sure you could've done it with all those books you read,'' he said enjoying the way their hands swung ever so slightly as they walked.

“Afraid I haven't got the talent for storytelling; tried my hand at writing a novel some years back and it didn't work out.”   
There were many things he could’ve said but he found himself complacent in the silence while heading not back to their room or to the astronomy tower but outside of the castle’s halls.

It wasn't exactly late and technically they were not bound by the same curfew as the students so Aziraphale saw no harm going for a stroll. Truthfully he couldn't help wanting to bend rules when he was with Crowley like they had that night on the astronomy tower. Again the stars were witness to their rule-bending. 

“I ...” he cleared his throat of its sudden lump. “I wanted to show you the greenhouse I heard there are all sorts of unusual plant life.” 

“And you thought to wait until now to check it out?” Crowley wriggled his eyebrow in that darn way that made his hands tingle and his heart skip.

“Perhaps we could wait till morning.”

“Nonsense” Crowley laughed, opening the door as if it weren’t locked at all.

The greenhouse was marvelous; floor to ceiling strewn with vines, pots, and soil was haphazardly stacked in the corner.

“Not as organized as I would like,” Crowley muttered under his breath.

For a second he wondered if this had been a good idea as he watched Crowley approach the first potted plant inspecting its leaves. 

“Hmm” Crowley hummed, rubbing the leaves between his fingers. “Not bad at all but you could use a larger pot.”

Tugging on the stem an awful earpiece scream filled the room. Accompanied by Crowley’s own “FUCK!”

Returning the plant back to its soil the greenhouse quieted.

“Dam” he heard Crowley say as the ringing in his ears vanished.

“That's the first time a plant had ever screamed at me.”

From Crowley’s look he knew he shouldn't have laughed but how could he not? This world was so fascinating.

“Suppose you think I deserve this huh?”

“Not at all” he giggled. 

In a blink of an eye, Crowley was beside him once more. Suddenly he didn't feel like laughing anymore especially with the way golden eyes scrunched up in a smile.

“I'll take this as a sign to get to bed. I ain't sticking around to find out what else sounds like that.” Crowley tugged on his ears. “It was thoughtful for you to show me this. Thank you.” 

“Crowley,” he said a little more confidently, placing a hand onto his cheek. 

This was the first time he'd touched Crowley in this fashion. A pat on the back perhaps, a hand held absolutely, but this... his heart couldn't dare keep up with his racing thoughts most revolving around bonding, and 6000 years of friendship, and the end of the world, and uncertainties that came and went. Somewhere in that mix there was a small voice telling him to kiss Crowley. Crowley who was like a statue under his touch.

There had to be something on his face for Aziraphale to touch him like this but if that were the case then why didn't Aziraphale remove his hand yet and why was he unable to move? It wasn't the sort of paralyzation that came from being poisoned or being bound by magic.... This was entirely different. 

“Y-yes we should get back.” Aziraphale stammered.

Managing to snap his fingers he pulled a demonic miracle to get them back into their room without taking a single step. 

“You shouldn't do that,” Aziraphale said not sounding all that seriously put off by it. In Fact there was almost a grateful tone to his voice. Still, he remained under Aziraphale touch wanting to know exactly why they hadn't broken this moment or concluded it.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” he asked, trying to stop himself from melting under Aziraphale’s hand.

“I,” Slowly Aziraphale let his hand rest back at his side. “Good night Crowley.”

“Good night Aziraphale.”

Shutting the door he flopped onto the mattress. 

_ “How am I ever going to sleep now?” _ he asked himself, touching his cheek.


	10. When Monday Comes

After a while, Crowley was done with lying awake instead of taking part in one of humanity's fondest activities - sleeping. Rolling off the bed he moved into the kitchen. The sound of clinking pulled his attention towards Aziraphale repeatedly stirring his cup of cocoa. 

“What’s bothering you, angel?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelped, knocking over his cup. “Oh bugger,” Aziraphale muttered, bending down to pick up his cup. Dropping down to his knee as well he helped wipe up the spill. “Are you worried that he might not return home?” 

“No I'm just thinking of silly things,'' Aziraphale said, placing his cup into the sink.

“Silly things wouldn't make you act like this.”

“It truly is ...” Aziraphale sighed. “I think I might have come up with a way to get heaven and hell’s attention.”

“You what?” 

“Well there's no guarantee but someone from our respective offices would know what to do if we summoned them, I think.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Crowley lean against the couch. Something about Crowley just looking so nonchalant made him nervous.

“Sit, if you please” He motioned with his hand.

Slinking into the seat Crowley adjusted his sunglasses. “What's this plan then? Nothing too risky I assume.” 

“I won't go through with anything that might get you discorporated. Nothing of that sort, I...” He fiddled with his bow tie. “Could you stand?”

“Sit. stand. Just tell me angel your plan.”

“Yes right.”

He was so aware of the way their legs touched and the stare of those golden eyes on him. 

“What if we did something that heaven and hell wouldn't like?”

“Did that back home, did we? Stopping armageddon and whatnot.”

“Well yes, we could do something like that.” 

Crowley was confused hadn’t that been their original plan? Wasn't that why they were watching young Potter and Malfoy for suspicious world-ending activity? This couldn’t have been what Aziraphale really wanted to say.

“I have an idea,'' he said trying to sound far more sure than he felt. “You trust me?”

“Of course.”

 _“Right,”_ he thought, letting his hands slide into Aziraphale’s. “I wanted to try this for a while actually.”

“Why haven't you if you thought it could being attention to our predicament?” 

“I felt that it would be risking so much if I did it before now.” 

Aziraphale nodded.

He could feel himself getting cold feet as he turned to better face Aziraphale. This could be a horrible idea, one that he couldn’t get through unscathed if things turned bad.

“Well?”Aziraphale asked in a soft whisper.

Slowly his fingers moved up his arm until it rested on Aziraphale’s cheek. Taking the plunge the same way a human would jump headfirst into a freezing pool of water he moved forward bringing their lips together. Completing a temptation that he held for so long. And just as quickly he broke it fearing that lightning would strike him down for the act or worse, Aziraphale asking him to leave forever. 

“I... I..” Aziraphale stammered not moving. “Nothing happened...” Aziraphale scanned the room just as he did for Beelzebub and Gabriel only to find the room still devoid of them. “Perhaps we should try again.” 

Words escaped him. If Aziraphale didn't mind and neither of them exploded who was he to continue the fight to keep their lips apart?

Tilting Aziraphale’s chin ever so slightly he pressed his lips against careful to keep the connection light.

“Again,” he asked each time Crowley pulled away. Everything from the firm hand against his face to the tenderness of Crowley’s lips made it nearly impossible not to feel overwhelmingly loved.

“Angel” Crowley whispered, pulling back after who knew how long they were like this. “We should call it a night.”

“Yy-es of course.” He was greedy in the worst way, wanting to stay as they were without care, but they couldn’t. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something so badly. Angels weren’t supposed to want. If Gabriel had appeared he would’ve been severely reprimanded, maybe he would’ve even been cast out of heaven once and for all. If that happened...

Cheeks ablaze he watched as Crowley took his hand raising it to press a kiss onto the back of his hand.

_“I’d always have him.”_

_“Please ask to do this again,_ ” Crowley thought. 

In fact, if he could kiss Aziraphale once a decade he would gladly accept. As a demon he supposed he should be more aggressive- taking what he wanted whenever he saw fit. Those traits of sin promoted by hell is how he would've been considered a pinnacle of all evil if he boasted about seducing an angel. That would be the case if he saw himself as a lesser demon. This wasn't a manipulation not some demon trick. When their lips pressed together he for once didn't feel as if he were some corrupting force. He never wanted to be the demon hell thought he was. He'd rather strangle himself before forcing anything upon Aziraphale.

“Goodnight,” he said, preventing himself from capturing those plump lips once more.

“Goodnight.”

Butterflies were the least of his trouble. Kissing Crowley was like eating sushi for the first time a little intimidating but wonderful. And if neither hell nor heaven was sending representatives to promptly put this to an end then he was going to enjoy the bounty of love emanating from Crowley.

  
  
  


***

 _“Okay maybe this was a bad idea,”_ Crowley thought when for the fifth time Aziraphale had completely lost focus during a lesson.

He should've been proud of the stuttering and misplacing pages but he didn't want their amazing snogging lessen the enjoyment of teaching for the angel. Although that didn't stop him from giving half-smiles from across the room whenever he caught Aziraphale staring at him.

“Something is up with those two” he caught one of the Ravenclaw girls whispering on their way out.

Rubbing the back of his neck he approached az “Az-”

His apology was cut short by Aziraphale gripping his collar pulling him with such force that he'd never experienced from him before. This was the strength of an angel holding him, eyes trained onto his lips. With a please barely uttered their lips were on each other and the tension of Aziraphale hands eased allowing him to support the back of Aziraphale head as he retained control over the situation.

“You're terrible tempting me.”

“I wasn't even trying,” he confessed softly.

Aziraphale’s face turned red as a tomato.

He was so sure Crowley had been tempting him every second of class but Crowley didn't lie to him which meant... He didn't even want to think too long about that. If he could fall from the things in his head he would've become a demon hours ago. Stepping back from this intimate space was difficult. Perhaps it had to do with keeping Crowley at arm's length for over 6,000 years that made him almost weep at the missing contact.

“This umm... experiment of ours has yet to produce answers so we should find another way to get home.”

Frowning felt like the proper thing to do in this situation but he fought it. Aziraphale was right they couldn't be held up here snogging for millennia even if he wanted to propose such an idea.

“So back to square one?”

“Not quite.” Aziraphale smiled, taking his hand. “I would very much like to continue this some time.”

“Y-yeah.” he cleared his throat of its sudden squeakiness. “Whenever you like, angel.”

A loud boom set off in the hallway followed by several shrieking students.

“What now?” he groaned stepping into the hallway that was filled with smoke.

“This way” he heard Aziraphale guiding a group of first years.

Heading into the thick of the smoke he found the all too familiar scent. This wasn't smoke from a fire but magic- Potter’s magic. With a snap, he miracled away the smoke revealing Potter in dead center. Eyes fell to him as harsh whispers ripped through the crowds that had been caught in the mess.

“He did it again” a few students muttered.

Catching his eye Potter fled.

“Nothing to see here!” With a wave of his hand, the others returned to their business. 

Striding in the direction Potter went he scented the air. Tracking down the Slytherin was easy as could be; he'd only gotten as far as the courtyard. Head in his hands he knew that Potter was crying. Taking a seat next to him he waited for something. It sort of reminded him of being Warlock's nanny; how he was so ill-equipped to deal with all too human emotional moments. When he took care of Warlock Aziraphale handled the more nurturing side of things.

“Hey kid,” 

“You don't have to worry about me professor

Settling more comfortably onto the ground he watched the others pass by. “Who says I’m worried? I can assure that Aziraphale is handling any injuries.”

Potter pulled his knees closer to his chest.

“Are you hurt?”

“It's nothing, just a burn.”

“Let me take care of it.”

Potter flinched away.

“I'm not going to harm you.”

“What if I hurt you?”

Crowley chuckled “Believe me that I've gone through my share of pain. Nothing you could harm me.”

“But-”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was exaggerating that time in class. I didn’t think you would still feel guilty about that. Sorry.”

Without a word Potter showed his hand that was covered in blisters. Crowley couldn't help wince at it. This was more than a simple burn. How many times had Potter needed to undergo similar injuries for this to be commonplace? 

Potter kept glancing behind his shoulder as he worked a quick miracle over the boiled skin.

“Something wrong?”

“Thought people would be staring at us.”

With a quick check of his work he let go of Potter’s hand. “I made sure they would ignore us.”

“Thanks...You’re much different than I thought...I mean you're a demon.”

“Found that out yourself?”

“Didn't have to. Were you two really trying to hide it flying around like that?”

Crowley smirked “Well _I_ never truly liked the idea of hiding.”

“Professor Bristow?”

“I’ll stop you there. If you know I'm a demon I’d prefer if you used my actual name Crowley.”

“Cr...I can’t. I'll just stick with professor.”

Shrugging he laid against the tree. “Suit yourself.”

“Professor, what is an antichrist? We tried looking into it but there's nothing about it in the library.”

“We?”

“Scorpius and I. So what is it?”

Not wanting to recount history he said the simplest version of the truth that he could come up with. “Someone who is set to bring destruction to everything around them.”

“So like me?”

“Well, sometimes savior kids fall down that path.” Potter looked hurt. “but I don't think you’re the antichrist anymore” he tacked on quickly.

“But you _did_ think I was.”

“I...” he messed with his hair. How could he explain all of this? 

“Aziraphale and I were tasked with dealing with the antichrist of our dimension so when we ended up here..I thought .. I thought you had something to do with why we were here.”

Spotting Aziraphale looking for him he waved his hand. He was sure Aziraphale would have a better way of consoling Potter.

“Idid” Potter mumbled. 

“What did you say?”

“I did have something to do with you coming here.”

“Everything's taken care of ... what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, catching the tail end of their conversation. 

“I can’t! F-” Crowley said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “The movement I stop thinking you’re tied up in this and you just admit it.”

Aziraphale looked between the two. “I'm a little lost.”

“We were right.” Crowley shook his head in disbelief. “Potter is responsible for our presence here.”

“Oh,” he said 

“So what now?” Potter asked, choking back tears. “I'm tired of this being a failure. If I'm this antichrist then...”

“You can stop right there,” Aziraphale said, pulling the poor boy into a hug. “You are not that. It was our mistake to think that of you.”

Potter pushed Aziraphale away. “I’ll make things right.”

With determination in his eyes Potter ran off.

“Potter-” He tried to follow after him but Crowley took his hand.

“Let him go for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, still feeling the need to comfort Potter. 

“We all need time to think things over,” Crowley said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Monday we can deal with it. We should do something else to get our minds off it.”

  
  


_“What are we now?”_ Crowley found himself thinking as he held Aziraphale close. 

Change was easy to jump onto when it was temporary. That's why Aziraphael took to every moment of this place, wasn't it? Back home it would take years to convince him of silly things like how top hats were out of style. Crowley couldn't stop thinking if snogging was just something that would be left to the wayside once they returned home. Would all that they've become reset? Perhaps it was selfish to ask those things or to even want their relationship to properly move forward. Back home they would get in trouble if it was found out.

“There's something I always wanted to do,” Aziraphale said.

“What is it?”

“Well, you know when humans form a relationship they go on dates.”

“Are you asking me out?”

Aziraphale's smile dimmed a little. “Is that silly?”

“Not at all. I'm sure our coworkers will talk.”

“I believe some of them do think we are bondmates already.”

“Like in those books you were reading?”

Aziraphale blushed. “Well yes.”

“What is a bondmate?”

“Well it's a partnership of sorts. Two people who are close enough to shame everything including their magic.”

“Sounds sort of like us.” He smiled. “What do you have in mind for this date?”

Planning a genuine date was the very definition of nerve-wracking. They had gone shopping before, even sharing meals but this felt different; as silly as that seemed. 

“There's a wizarding town nearby we could check it out.”

“Do we need to get permission from the old coot?” Crowley’s face scrunched up as though he just bit a lemon.

“We’re free to do what we please on the weekends.”

Hogsmeade aside from having a strange name was alright. It reminded him of a quaint version of SoHo when automobiles started to ride on the road and more people actually cared to read books. If he cared much about the strange tilted aesthetic to the architecture he would’ve made note of the cobblestone or the colorful displays from flying brooms to robes. Nothing mattered as much as the way Aziraphale lit up.

“Where to first?” Aziraphale asked. 

He was at a loss for what to suggest. It wasn't as if they needed cauldrons of gold and he hated quills. Anything that they really needed could be easily miracled into existence but that wasn't the point of today. 

“Let's try out Honeydukes,'' he said, taking Aziraphale’s hand.

Never before had he seen so many strange new treats in one place. Crowley too seemed to be taken by the assortment of confectionaries.

“They are very interesting designs,” Crowley said, holding up a loli called ice mice.

“Do you think it actually tastes like a mouse?” he whispered.

So far they had not come into contact with odd foods but this place sure had a lot more animal-named treats.

“Don't think so,'' Crowley pulled up another bright box with neon slug shaped candies.

“Oh here!” he picked up the more familiar bag of a fluffy sugar treat.

“They have fairy floss. I haven't had this in some time. Remember the World's Fair?” he smiled.

“1904 one of many less messier jobs.”

“You're telling me you helped invent this back home?”

Crowley quirked a brow. “You doubt me?”

“I don’t see how this could count as an evil deed.”

“It was partially invented by a dentist” Crowley claimed proudly. 

“You are too funny,” he chuckled. “Tempting a dentist to create a sweet. What ever gave you such an idea?”

“Well I did it for you,” Crowley admitted pretending to inspect another loli. “You were so into sweets back then and well the thought behind it did exist before. Only those among the super-rich could have it before so...” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck.

Really he shouldn't have gone blabbing about his not so bad deeds. 

Aziraphale hugged the bag of candy floss. “Thank you.”

He remembered fond memories of offering that sweet to the angel all those years back. Aziraphale looked around before peeking him on the cheek

“I...I’m going to see what else they got.”

Aziraphale looked to the candy floss.

Just how long had Crowley waited for him? How many little gifts like this had gone unnoticed over time? 

Across the way he watched Crowley load up a basket after inspecting each box.

“I don't need you to buy the whole store for me.”

“Of course I'm not,” Crowley said, placing back one of the chocolate wands. “Some of these things reminded me of home. Like this,” he said, picking up a chocolate frog. “Kind of reminds me of Hastur. I bet he would go crazy if I ate it in front of him.” Crowley laughed. 

It wasn’t until they left that he realized something important. “How did you get the money?”

“Nabbed it from the old man.” 

“Crowley!”

“We deserved a little compensation for our work don’t we?”

“Still,”

“Where to next?”

“I could use some tea.”

The tea shop was splattered in shades of pink and dollies. Although he didn't care one way or another it was clear from the woman in charge that they stood out in a place like this.

“Welcome gentlemen table for two?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale blushed.

“Do you miss them?” Aziraphale asked as their tea popped into existence.

“Who?”

“The other demons.”

“Hardly they were good for a laugh but I distinctly remember them wanting to toss me into holy water. Do you miss Gabriel and the others? You just turn the other cheek and all that?”

“Not at all. Though it's still odd not needing to expect the occasional check-up.”

“Have you received anything from those wizard cops?”

“Not yet.”

“They sure take their time don't they?” he complained.

“We've got nothing but time.”

He was right. It wasn’t as if they were trying to outrace the four horsemen of the apocalypse again. 

“...love.”

“What was that angel?”

“I-I’m loving this tea you should try it.”

Their fingers intertwined as they walked along the cobblestone path back to Hogwarts. He couldn't believe how much had changed since they'd arrived. If he thought about it things moved so fast but that had been his decision. He’d set the pace and he almost wished he could have told his past self just how much happier life would be if he gave in to the way he felt for Crowley. 

“This was nice,'' Crowley said, his cheeks a little pink probably from the wind. “We should do it again sometime.”

“That would be wonderful.”

All throughout their walk back to their room he kept waiting for Crowley to kiss him but it didn't happen as the stairs case moved or as they made it to their classroom. Not even after they placed all their purchases away.

“Is there any grading needed to be done?” Crowley asked.

“No.”

“Then I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight Crowley.”

  
  


***

Crowley had to admit that his work looked picture-perfect, a nice blanket laid out by the edge of the lake, basket filled with food he specifically asked Winky to prepare, glasses for the chilled wine and candles. All that he needed now was to get Aziraphale. The angel had been spoiling him with kisses so he had to step up his romance game- not that he had much experience per se.

Lust was a different story altogether. Whenever he got set with those tasks all it really took was a tight clade clothing and a makeover to lead humans towards sin. Romance was strictly confined to romance novels that he used as a crash course on how to be a better partner for Aziraphale. This was the type of thing Aziraphale wanted or at least he was pretty sure.

“I can't doubt this now,” he said double-checking the setup.“It's perfect he will like it” he repeated like a mantra as he set off to collect the angel.

“Where are you taking me?'' laughed Aziraphale as Crowley hurried him along. They were perhaps worse than any student sneaking out so often.

“Shhh.” 

Once out of the halls and past the courtyard, Crowley slowed them down to a nice strolling pace. If he could he’d stroll on forever besides Crowley. 

“Why are we heading to the lake?”

“For your surprise.”

Surprise was an understatement.

They’d walked upon a once pristine picnic being pulled apart by a large tentacle emerging from the lake.

“No you don't!” Crowley ran towards the tentacle. Wrestling the blanket from its grasps Crowley dived for the bottle of wine that had been knocked over. It was like watching an odd dance the way Crowley held things in his right hand while using a candlestick in his left to prod at the wild tentacle. With a wail below the water the tentacle wrapped around the picnic basket and plunged it into the water.

“Dam it!”Crowley swore, dropping everything. “Watch over this!” Crowley began furiously tugging at his boots. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to show that Kraken who's boss!”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Yes, I do that fish bastard ruined everything!”

“Crowley,” he laid the blanket out once more. “Nothing is ruined” he patted the available space beside him. 

Debate was clear on Crowley’s face as he looked from the water to him.

“YOU WIN THIS TIME!” Crowley yelled to the water before joining him in a huff.

“You really don't have to go through so much trouble,'' he said, helping to correct Crowley’s fussed hair. 

“I’d fight dozens of kraken for you.”

He could feel his face turn hot. Crowley always knew the things to say to make him want to cover his face and kiss him at the same time.

“Well,” Crowley sighed, “at least he still have wine.”

“I would do the same,” he said when Crowley handed him his glass of wine. “I too would fight dozens of kraken for you.”

Crowley leaned in closer.

“May I kiss you'' he whispered and he barely said yes before their lips met.

  
  


Kiss after chaste kiss were planted on the angles lips. Only when they stopped to sip wine or watch as the lights from the castle danced along the water were their lips parted. The world seemed so peaceful at this moment. Having Aziraphale around tended to put peace out in the universe.

  
  


“Do you want to join me?” Crowley asked him as they made it back to their room.

“I...”

“I didn't mean to pressure you,” Crowley said quickly.

“I'd like to.”

With a small smile, Crowley led him into the bedroom. Following his actions they both shed their coats and shoes.

“So what do I do?” The whole sleeping thing was a bit strange to him if he was perfectly honest. It never crossed his mind to try it out over the 6,000 years.

“Well... not much,” Crowley said, removing his glasses. “You just get on the bed.” Crowley laid back eyes on the ceiling.

Pressing the mattress he said, “It's so soft” trying to break the tension.

“It's pretty good'' Crowley began fluffing his pillow. “My bed is memory foam, best thing to sleep on.”

“Is that so?” 

Crowley cleared his throat. “Lie down.” 

Doing so was a whole new sensation he was so used to sitting or standing for long periods of time. Neither angels nor demons needed sleep but Crowley enjoyed this so it couldn't be all bad.

“And now?”

“You just close your eyes.”

“When do I know to open them?”

“Whenever your body feels like it. You don't have to force yourself to do this.”

“I want to try.”

Closing his eyes he waited for sleep but he continued to focus on the way his hands laid on top of his moving chest or the fact that Crowley was laying beside him. His mind couldn't shut off. Nagging him about this wasted time. There were books he could read instead or prepare a new lesson for Monday.

 _“I have to give this a real chance,'_ ' he thought, starting to count in his head. When he got to a thousand he couldn't handle it

“Crow-” he stopped noticing Crowley was already asleep. Turning on his side he watched him so related, a light sound coming from his mouth. A few strands of hair had fallen over his eyes. Carefully he inched closer. Crowley made sleeping look wonderful. Gently he pushed those few hairs out of his face.

“Aziraphale” Crowley muttered in his sleep. 

“Yes dear?” he whispered.

Crowley pulled him close, wrapping his arms and legs around him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

When he woke Aziaphale was happily reading a book while he was wrapped around the angel.

“Sorry.” He had the habit of hanging onto things in his sleep

“No worries my dear.”

“Should we go get breakfast?”

“Before that could we... kiss?”

“O-of course.” Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s face letting their lips meet once again.

“I love you Crowley.”

Aziraphale loved him? A part of himself that had always worked to shield his heart told him that angels were beings filled with love and that this didn’t matter. But he refused to listen to that this was something special. These were the words he wanted to hear for centuries and here they were. Simple words that he'd learned to forget. There was no love in hell, only a host of sins that could be mistaken as love if you allowed yourself to be blinded.

Suppressing tears he placed a kiss onto Aziraphale’s palm.

“To breakfast?” Aziraphale asked, voice tight in his throat. He hadn’t meant to say it so soon. He was more than a little sure that Crowley had not intended to say it last night. Even so the amount of love streaming from Crowley was enough to get drunk on. “They might have crepes today,” he said miracling his outfit in order.

“You do love those things don't you” Crowley chuckled.

“They are delicious.”

“Perhaps I’ll try them.”

Now he really wanted to share crepes even though he doubted they would be on the menu.

“Good morning Bristow, Redden” Slughorn greeted on their way to the Great Hall. “I got a message for you.”

“From Dumbledore?”

“Nah. From Potter's son. You know I wouldn't pass on messages from a student but he is the Chosen One's son. Gotta keep in good graces.”

“What is the message ?”

“Ah wrote it down in case I forgot” Slughorn fitted out a crumpled piece of paper. “‘Meet at the field.’ Now, what does that mean? Been trying to work it out. Wonder if he's alright in the head you know.”

“Let's go Aziraphale” Crowley pulled him along.

“Do you think it's urgent?”

“Who knows but I could do without Slughorn for a while. Plus I did promise that we would deal with things today.” The field had to mean where they first showed up which was a bit of a walk. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his Monday morning but the sooner he dealt with things the sooner he could swim in the knowledge that Aziraphale loved him. “Well get crepes after.”

“Crowley! Aziraphale!” A voice called out.

Rushing through the hall was none other than Harry Potter. “Where is my son Albus?” he panted.

“We're just on our way to meet him,” Aziraphale said giving him a questioning look. “Are you alright?”

“According to this, another portal is about to open!” Harry spoke quickly holding up the same device the other wizard cop had used before.

 _“That's good isn't it?”_ he thought as they ran in the direction of the open field.

It didn’t look good at all.

Young Mr. Potter stood on the top of the hill where lights started to flicker like an old T.V. Closer they walked more cautiously. The air around him felt like an electric field and the device in Harry’s hands went crazy. 

“AL!” Malfoy yelled over the buzzing.

Discarding the device Harry shielded his face as he pushed through the rough force that had surrounded young Potter. “Albus! What are you doing?” 

“The right thing!” Potter grimaced as the lights around him sparked bright white.

The sky seemed to rip and swirl much like the portal they had fallen through. The force that surrounded them swallowed up Potter and Harry leaving only blinding light that cut even through his thick glasses.

For so long they waited for the chance to return but not like this. This didn’t feel right at all.

“Professors you have to help him,” Malfoy begged tears on the verge of falling. “This is all my fault.”

Taking one of Crowley’s hands he held his other to Malfoy. “Then let’s fix things together.”

Holding back tears Malfoy took his hand. Together they braved against the painful first steps. Tiny jolts ran up his arms but he gripped their hands tighter refusing to let them go. Further and further they walked. It almost seemed like an eternity with the weight hung over his shoulders but he knew Harry had made it to the other side and so would they.

“...You don't think I can’t understand what it's like to feel so different?” Harry’s voice reached his ears as they fumbled over the threshold of the other side. “I might've been the Chosen One but before that, I was a complete nobody who just fell into this. I never asked to fight a war at seventeen. I only got through it because of my friends because I trusted them and they trusted me.”

“I NEED TO STOP BEING A FAILURE!” Potter screeched his arms up over his head as if he were holding the sky itself. “Stop being a complete embarrassment to you” his words coming out more like choked sobs as the portal jutted above.

“Al I’ve never once thought of you as an embarrassment. I’m the failure. I've failed to be there for you for making you feel that you couldn't open up about these things or that you were some cursed child.”

Potter hung his head.

“Is that why you opened up a portal? Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

Potter’s head lifted eyes wide with guilt. “Of course not!”

“It wasn’t his idea!” Malfoy interjected, shielded behind them. “It was mine!”

“Scorpius? Why would you do something so risky as a portal?”

“The portal wasn't what he wanted. We were planning to bond or magic together.”

“That’s against the law to-”

“ I know we’re too young, that's why we were doing it in secret. I just couldn't stand Al suffering anymore with his magic but something went wrong before we could complete it.” 

“And that's what made the portal the first time?” Aziraphale asked.

Potter nodded. The rippled portal flickered.

“We ran to get help but Slughorn wasn't helpful in the least.”

“I'm sorry for dragging you two into this,” Potter said. “So you have to go back.”

“If you keep trying to do this you could be ripped apart!” Harry argued, stopping himself from pulling his son away from the unstable portal.

“Give me a miracle angel,” Crowley said before rushing for both Potters. 

In a wave of colors the unfinished portal collapsed on itself until exploding into the deepest black. Wings curled protectively around Malfoy he toppled to the ground. All was silent until little by little he could hear the wind rustling through his feathers and the murmur of voices.

Unfurling his wings he caught eyes with Crowley who too had put up his wings to protect the Potters. Jutting out from his own protective hold Malfoy rushed to them.

Leaving the now hugging family Crowley walked over to him. “Thank you, angel.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t let it go bad like that. We’ll find another way home.”

“Perhaps we were wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean angel?”

He’d had this silly thought for a while. He didn't dare to even voice it because if he did then ..well it would already confuse things more. Still...

“What if we're wrong about being sent here... that it wasn't the almighty's plan?”

“Wouldn't that go against well... everything?”

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.

Of course it did. She was in charge of it all, wasn't she? All this time they were moved about like a lifeboat without oars. The Almighty works in mysterious ways was a mindset instilled in him like so many. Everything had operated on inevitable plans this far but...

“Neither heaven nor hell seems to hold influence here” he pointed out.

Crowley couldn’t wrap his head around what Aziraphale was thinking. A part of him wondered if the angle had hit his head.

“Does that mean she doesn't exist in this dimension?”

“I think she’s still there... but even without angels and demons, these humans have lived, following patterns of good and bad. What if we aren't really needed in this dimension?”

He had to think that over. It was true that they hadn’t done much while here but there had to be a reason or something. 

“What was the point to any of this if we were not here to stop Armageddon 2.0 or even watch over the humans of Earth?” Frustrated he raked a hand through his hair. “Was this some punishment?”

“No, I think it was a gift.”

“Great gift!” he yelled to the sky, “Tossing us away from everything we knew. Taking my car, your bookshop.”

“Those are just material things my dear we could get them again.”

“What are you saying? You love that book shop and SoHo!”

Aziraphale took his hands. He felt as though he were going insane questioning everything that had happened up until now and there was Aziraphale so calm. How could an angle be calm with even the thought that they could be stuck in a dimension that didn’t even need them to function?

“I'm sure that being here is a gift far bigger than what we’ve lost. Without heaven or hell influences we are free to be on our own side without fear. I'm allowed to hold you so easily.” Aziraphale stepped closer.

“So we should give up returning home completely?”

“As long as I have you we could build a new home. Maybe even go on silly adventures like the ones you made up.”

Cupping Aziraphale’s cheeks he stared into those blue eyes. Not a hint of fear or worry about the future shone in them. 

“That actually sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this fic. It was a silly idea that I had for a while now and finally got around to it.  
> Until the next time we meet have a wonderful and safe day, week, month.

**Author's Note:**

> A few clarifications that I would like to make:  
> 1\. I do not support JK's views on Trans women ( A part of me worried that still writing for HP would make it seem that I did, but I won't let her views take away the fantastic world that I enjoy writing about)  
> 2\. Certain events of cannon do not apply to this story (ex.character deaths)  
> 3\. This work was really just an excuse to explore what would it be like if Aziraphale and Crowley so happened to arrive at Hogwarts.   
> 4\. Since the in the HP books there is no talk about demons or angels (to my memory) I'm operating on the premise that they do not exist in that universe.   
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
